ifteen  Thousand  Miles 


Carrie  Adell  Strahorn 


BANCROFT 
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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


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Fifteen  Thousand  Miles 


by  Stag 


e 


A  Woman's  Unique  Experience  during  Thirty  Years  of  Path 

Finding  and  Pioneering  from  the  Missouri  to  the 

Pacific  and  from  Alaska  to  Mexico 


By 

Carrie  Adell  Strahom 


With  350  Illustrations  from  Drawings   by  Charles  M.   Russell  and 
others,  and  from  Photographs 


Second  Edition 


New  York    G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons   London 
Ube  Iknicfterbocfter  press 
1915 


Copyright,  191  i 

BY 

CARRIE  ADELL  STRAHORN 


TTbc  Itnicfterbocftec  press,  Hew  IBorft 


loH^S 


S7Vb 


This  Book 
is  lovingly  dedicated  to  my  dear  husband 

ROBERT    E.    STRAHORN 

WHOSE   CONSTANT   CHUM    AND   COMPANION   IT   HAS    BEEN    MY    GREATEST  JOY    TO 

BE   FOR   MORE  THAN   THIRTY   YEARS   IN   THE   CONQUERING 

OF   THE   WILDERNESS 


PREFACE 


7  HE  West  of  thirty-four  years  ago  is 
J  now  only  a  tradition.  The  pic- 
turesque wilderness  with  its  ma- 
rauding bands  of  Indians,  with  its 
lawless  white  men,  with  its  quaint 
stage-coaches,  and  with  its  vast 
tenant  less  reaches  of  mountains 
and  plains  was  a  reality,  with  all 
the  vast  resources  of  the  great 
domain  yet  to  be  developed. 
"^  "^  The  bird's-eye  view  of  to-day 

looks  down  upon  thousands  of  miles  of  railways,  flourishing 
towns,  substantial  cities,  and  millions  of  acres  of  land  green 
with  cultivation  where  only  yesterday  were  the  dreary  solitudes 
of  sandy  waste. 

In  the  pages  of  this  volume,  I  have  endeavored  to  give  a 
picture  of  the  Old  West,  to  tell  of  the  efforts  which  a  Westward 
marching  population  made  to  establish  homes  on  the  border 
line  of  civilization  and  beyond,  enduring  hardships  and  priva- 
tions with  the  courage  of  heroes.  I  have  tried  to  restore  the 
picturesque  condition  of  what  was  the  great  homeless  frontier  of 
our  Western  country,  and  to  trace  its  development. 

The  narrative  covers  nearly  every  highway  of  the  country 
between  the  Missouri  River  and  the  Pacific  Ocean  and  from 
the  British  lands  to  Mexico.  The  old  Concord  stage-coach  with 
its  swinging  thoroughbrace  and  the  covered  "dead  X"  wagon 
were  the  Pullman  cars  for  the  overland  traveller,  and  highway 
meals  were  served  from  the  wagon  box  or  at  a  wayside  cabin 
that  was  frequently  more  than  half  a  stable. 

The  circumstances  that  led  to  such  a  life  date  back  to  the 
year  1877,  when  my  husband,  Robert  E.  Strahorn,  wrote  and 
published  a  book  on  the  resources,  climatic  conditions,  and 

V 


vi  Preface 

scenic  attractions  of  what  was  then  Wyoming  Territory.  The 
book  fell  into  the  hands  of  Jay  Gould,  who  was  then  the  wizard 
of  the  railroad  world  and  the  live  wire  of  the  Union  Pacific 
Company,  with  its  rails  running  from  Omaha  to  Ogden  and  Salt 
Lake  City.  The  fancy  seized  Mr.  Gould  to  have  Mr.  Strahorn 
create  a  literary  bureau  and  advertising  department  for  the 
Union  Pacific  Railway  Company,  and  to  write  a  similar  book 
on  all  Western  States  and  Territories.  It  was  a  new  departure 
for  a  railroad  company,  but  as  the  scheme  was  discussed  its 
scope  broadened  until  it  seemed  to  be  without  Hmit.  The 
Company  wanted  to  know  the  possibilities  for  extensions,  the 
tonnage  that  might  accrue,  the  tillable  acres,  the  scenic  attrac- 
tions, and  all  the  alluring  inducements  that  could  be  offered  to 
prospective  home-seekers. 

The  offer  came  within  a  week  after  our  marriage.  To  accept 
it  meant  the  abandonment  of  plans  already  well  matured,  and 
the  alternative  of  leaving  me  alone  among  strangers  in  the  Far 
West,  or  subjecting  me  to  a  life  of  hardship  in  frontier  travel 
that  was  looked  upon  as  well  nigh  unendurable,  either  one 
of  which  seemed  equally  impossible  for  him  to  force  upon  me. 

It  was  a  career  so  suited  to  his  capabilities  and  his  liking 
that  I  determined  not  to  be  a  stumbling  block  at  the  very 
threshold  of  our  new  life,  and  he  was  finally  persuaded  to  accept 
the  position,  it  being  agreed  that  for  a  time  at  least  I  would 
accompany  him.  That  stipulation  the  railroad  officials  em- 
phatically refused.  They  said  no  woman  could  endure  the 
hardships  that  conditions  of  travel  then  required  on  routes 
far  away  from  the  railroad,  and  added  that  he  would  be  con- 
stantly hampered  and  delayed  in  his  work.  Mr.  Strahorn  was 
firm  in  his  insistence,  and  they  were  obdurate  and  arbitrary; 
they  argued  and  reasoned,  then  demurred,  relented,  and  finally 
consented. 

It  meant  going  the  length  of  nearly  every  stage  road  across 
our  great  frontier  many  times  over;  into  remote  districts,  into 
lonely  valleys  and  far-reaching  mountains.  It  meant  going 
into  hundreds  of  mines,  computing  millions  of  feet  of  timber, 
the  number  of  cattle  and  sheep  and  their  increase.  It  involved 
the  study  of  the  prairies  and  hillsides  with  reference  to  their 
adaptability  for  raising  cereals  and  fruits;  the  examination  of 
watercourses  and  drainage,  the  determination  of  the  climatic 


Preface  vii 

and  scenic  conditions,  and,  in  short,  every  factor  that  would 
make  attractive  and  instructive  reading  for  the  home-seeker. 

Fifteen  thousand  miles  by  stage  was  but  an  incident  of  those 
strenuous  years  as  the  work  progressed.  When  books,  pamphlets, 
and  newspapers  started  a  fast  and  furious  immigration,  and  rail- 
roads began  their  extensions,  then  came  the  locating  of  towns, 
colonizing  the  people  into  settlements,  building  bridges  and 
irrigating-canals,  schools,  churches  and  colleges,  organizing 
commercial  bodies  and  fraternal  societies,  and  pushing  on  with 
brain  and  brawn  and  pen  until  Pullman  cars  traversed  the  one- 
time wilderness  on  eight  great  overland  lines. 

While  this  is  not  a  book  of  statistics,  the  historical  references 
are  believed  to  be  correct.  The  main  purpose  has  been  to  record 
some  of  the  humorous  and  thrilling  events  during  many  years  of 
pioneer  travel,  leaving  out  most  of  the  heartaches  and  disap- 
pointments, the  excessive  fatigue  and  hardships,  and  giving  more 
of  the  rainbow  glow  to  an  adventurous  life  on  the  frontier. 

We  shall  ever  have  a  kindly  feeling  in  our  hearts  for  the  many 
friends  on  the  frontier  who  smoothed  our  thorny  way  by  generous 
and  thoughtful  hospitality.  They  threw  such  a  rosy  glow  along 
the  sparsely  settled  highways  and  made  so  homelike  the  widely 
separated  settlements  that  the  retrospect  is  colored  by  their 
kindness.  In  looking  back,  we  are  glad  to  linger  over  the 
humorous,  to  separate  from  its  crude  surroundings  the  pictur- 
esque element,  and  to  endeavor  to  perpetuate  the  romances 
of  the  miner  and  prospector,  the  cowboy  and  the  bullwhacker, 
the  stage  driver  and  the  freighter,  who  with  gaudily  decked 
Indians  made  the  frontier  a  galaxy  of  fascinating  pictures.  It 
was  a  land  where  eyes  often  ached  with  straining  from  horizon 
to  horizon  for  the  sight  of  a  cabin,  and  where  the  heavy  rattle 
of  the  stage-coach  and  the  howling  of  coyotes  were  the  only  sounds 
that  broke  the  silence  of  the  vast  expanse.  Yet  even  that  great 
silent  anthem  of  Nature  was  entrancing  in  its  immensity. 
Strenuous  and  trying  as  the  life  was,  it  had  many  compensations; 
it  afforded  experiences  and  a  fund  of  reminiscences  that  may 
interest  those  who  have  followed  our  trail  in  the  luxurious  ways 
of  modern  travel. 

C.  A.  S. 
Spokane,  Washington, 
June;,  191 1. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  I 
Beginning  the  Stage-Coach  Honeymoon i 

CHAPTER  II 
Cheyenne .        .         .       ii 

CHAPTER  III 
Black  Hawk  and  Central — Georgetown  and  Gray's  Peak     .         .       27 

CHAPTER  IV 
To  Salt  Lake         ..........       44 

CHAPTER  V 
In  the  Colorado  Rockies.    Estes  Park 65 

CHAPTER  VI 
To  Montana  in  1878  through  the  Bannock  War  Lines  ...      75 

CHAPTER  VII 
Butte.    Virginia  City .91 

CHAPTER  VIII 
Colonel  Sanders  and  the  Vigilantes loi 

CHAPTER  IX 
Diamond  City  AND  Hot  Sulphur  Springs 112 

CHAPTER  X 
The  Valley  of  the  Wild  Rose,  Deer  Lodge,  and  Missoula  .         .     120 

ix 


X  Contents 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XI 
The  Bachelor's  Surprise  at  the  Head  of  Bitter  Root  Valley     .      127 

CHAPTER  Xn 
To  Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri        .         .         .     134 

CHAPTER  Xni 
Through  Idaho,  Soda  Springs,  Blackfoot,  and  Challis  .         .     147 

CHAPTER  XIV 
A  Lark  on  Yankee  Fork  and  a  Sensational  Return  to  Salt  Lake      160 

CHAPTER  XV 
Omaha  in  the  Seventies         .         ,         .         .         .         .         .         .176 

CHAPTER  XVI 

In  the  Rockies  again.     Colorado  Springs,  Manitou,  Pike's  Peak, 

ETC 186 

CHAPTER  XVII 
New  Mexico,  Santa  Ft,  and  the  Pueblos      .   ,     .         .         .         .     192 

CHAPTER    XVIII 
Middle  Park.    A  Thrilling  SixjHorse  Runaway  ....     203 

CHAPTER    XIX 
A  Stage  Upset  on  the  Gunnison  Road 215 

CHAPTER  XX 
Roughing  it  in  Ruby  Camp 223 

CHAPTER  XXI 
Lake  City,  Wagon  Wheel  Gap,  and  the  Royal  Gorge  .         .         .     233 

CHAPTER  XXII 
Buena  Vista  and  Leadville 245 

CHAPTER  XXIII 
Early  Days  in  Yellowstone 254 


Contents  xi 

PAGE 

CHAPTER  XXIV 
To  THE  Pacific  via  Wood  River  and  Boise 287 

CHAPTER  XXV 
Boise  to  Walla  Walla  via  Baker  City  and  Pendleton  .         .     299 

CHAPTER  XXVI 
Spokane  Falls,  Medical  Lake,  and  Beautiful  Lake  Cceur  d'Alene    310 

CHAPTER  XXVII 
Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages        ....     327 

CHAPTER  XXVIII 
Portland  and  Puget  Sound 341 

CHAPTER  XXIX 
A  Non-Strikable  Union 364 

CHAPTER  XXX 
From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South         ....     374 

CHAPTER  XXXI 
To  Old  Tucson 391 

CHAPTER  XXXII 

The  Starting  of  Hailey 413 

CHAPTER  XXXIII 
Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre.    Shoshone  Falls  .        432 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 
A  Heart-Breaking  Trip  across  the  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho        .     448 

CHAPTER  XXXV 
In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders 461 


xii  Contents 


PAGB 

CHAPTER  XXXVI 
Again  to  the  Pacific  with  Senator  and  Mrs.  Caldwell         .         .     474 

CHAPTER  XXXVII 
City  Building — Caldwell,  and  other  Towns  on  the  Frontier       .     492 

CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
Pot-Pourri 515 

CHAPTER  XXXIX 
Some  Nights  of  Adventure.     Strategic  Moves  of  Townsite  Work     535 

CHAPTER  XL 
Ontario,  Oregon.    Holding  up  the  Overland  Train  for  a  Dance       545 

CHAPTER  XLI 
Alaska 552 

CHAPTER  XLII 
The  Saw  Tooth  Range — A  Summmer  among  the  Crags      .         .     575 

CHAPTER  XLIII 
Hailey  Hot  Springs — A  Jay  Gould  Summer  Resort         .         .         .     583 

CHAPTER  XLIV 
On  the  Wing 594 

CHAPTER  XLV 
Camping  Out — Lake  McDonald,  etc 605 

CHAPTER    XLVI 
British  Columbia.    Five  Hundred  Miles  of  Canoeing  .         .     618 

CHAPTER  XLVII 
From  Boston  to  the  Custer  Battle-Field  and  Hawaii  .         .         .     648 

CHAPTER  XLVIII 
The  Passing  of  the  Wilderness 669 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Portrait  of  the  Author 


Frontispiece 


"Bob's  Stampeded  Mount  Fell  over  a  Precipice  and  Broke  its 
Neck"     ........ 


Omaha  in  1877 

A  Buffalo  Herd  Holding  up  a  Train     . 

"As   Cochrane  and  Pard  Leaped  into  their  Saddles 
Shot  the  Indian."     {In  Color)  .... 


"The  Real  Home  for  Many  Years  was  in  the  Saddle  or  Stage 
Coach" 


First  Home  of  Platte  Valley  Masonic  Lodge  No.  32 
Deadwood  in  1876.         ...... 

Miss  Reel's  Savage  Wards    .         .         .         . 

"  The  Bandits  Hoped  FOR  A  Rich  Haul  " 

In  Clear  Creek  Canyon,  Colorado 

Mother  Grundy,  Clear  Creek  Canyon,  Colorado 

Tons  of  Bullion  Ready  for  the  Mint   . 


Cochrane 


"In  the  Shadow  of  the  Chief,  the  Squaw,  and  Papoose  Mountains 
THE  Horse  and  Dog  Awaited  the  Master's  Return" 

"  He  Lured  THE  Irate  Landowner  INTO  A  Deep  Hole  "   . 

Pack  Train  Waiting  for  a  Load 

The  Beginning  of  a  Gold  Mine 

The  Top  of  Gray's  Peak 

Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross     ....... 

Lost  to  the  World         ........ 

Crossing  Dale  Creek  Bridge  on  the  Cow-catcher 

xiii 


7 

9 

12 

19 
22 
28 
29 
31 

33 
34 
36 
37 
39 
40 
42 
45 


xiv  Illustrations 

PAGE 

Green  River  Castle  and  the  Island  Where  Pard  and  Cochrane 

Hid  from  the  Indians      ........  47 

Devil's  Slide,  Utah,  on  the  Union  Pacific  Railway       ...  49 

Brigham  Young's  Grave 51 

Mormon  Tabernacle  and  Temple 53 

American  Fork  Canyon          . 55 

Mormon  Tithing  House 58 

Co-operative  Store 59 

The  Hermitage,  Ogden  Canyon     .......  62 

Lumber  Flume  by  the  Romantic  Wayside 67 

EsTES  Park 68 

Hank  Farrar,  the  Park  Guide ,         .71 

A  Busy  Day 72 

Indian  on  Horseback 75 

Chief  Joseph          ..........  76 

Eagle  Rock  Bridge.     First  one  Built  across  Snake  River    .         .  78 

"The  Stage  Ahead  of  Us  had  been  Attacked  by  the  Indians  and 

Burned."     {In  Color)       ........  80 

"Indians  were  Seen  on  the  Road"         ......  81 

To-ka-map-map-e,  Squaw  of  the  Battle  of  the  Big  Hole         .          .  83 

"Mrs.  Corbet  Lifted  Him  by  the  Ears  and  Put  him  out"      .         .  85 

Typical  Home  Stage  Station 88 

Indian  War  Dance 90 

In  Days  that  are  Gone  .         .         .         ....         .         -93 

A  Store  of  the  Frontier       ........  95 

Finding  the  Gold  that  Made  Virginia  City  Famous       ...  99 

Col.  Sander's  Pullman  Car  to  Bannock  City — 1861       .         .         .  102 

Highwayman  Waiting  for  his  Prey        ......  104 

"Laughed  at  for  his  Foolishness  and  Shot  Dead  by  Slade"  105 

"The    Old    Stage-Coach    Rattled    over   the    Great,   Lonesome 

Highway"       ..........  109 


Illustrations  xv 

PAGB 

"Twenty    Miles    from    Helena    the    Missouri    Impertinently 

Crossed  OUR  Pathway  " 113 

The  Arrival  OF  THE  Stage  Is  the  Event  OF  THE  Day      .         .         .115 

"It  Measured  upward  of  Nine  Feet  from  the  Nose  to  the  Tip 

OF  the  Tail" 118 

One  of  the  Many  Fords 122 

"That  Damn  Thing  Ahead  OF  us  Is  A  Bear"  .         .         .         .123 

"  On  the  Opposite  Shore  THE  Jailers' Tepees  were  Pitched  "         .     128 

"We  Roamed  among  them  for  a  While  and  Found  them  Filthy 

AND  Indolent  IN  the  Extreme  "        ......     131 

A  Round-up  on  Sun  River 135 

Ruins  of  Fort  Benton  at  the  Oldest  Town  in  the  State       .         .     136 

Street  Scene  along  Missouri  River  at  Fort  Benton     .         .         .139 

Indians  of  the  Upper  Missouri 140 

Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri         .         .         .         .         .         .         .144 

"That  Night  IN  Blackfoot  WAS  A  Terror"    {In  Color)  .         .         .148 

Danielson's  Double-End  Store     .......     149 

Old  Fort  Hall  near  Blackfoot     .         .         .         .         .         .         .151 

A  Native  Entertainer  in  the  Sign  Language         .         .         .         .152 

"He  Tripped  and  Fell  into  a  Den  on  a  Mother  Bear  and  Cubs"     157 

The  Burns  House  of  Challis,  Idaho      ,         .         ,         .         .         .158 

"Ten  or  Twelve  Horses  to  a  Wagon  Stretching  themselves  out 

IN  Long  Muscular  Tension" 161 

"  Indians  Scrape  the  Juicy  Nutriment  from  underneath  the  Bark  "     162 

"Dodge  Brothers  Gave  THEIR  Guests  THE  Best  OF  Care  "       .         .     165 

"Going  down  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-Five  Feet  into  the  Mon- 
tana Mine" 168 

At  the  Bottom  of  the  Shaft  .         .         .         .         .         .         .169 

"We  Watched  THE  Loading  OF  Pack  Trains  WITH  Amusement"        .     171 

"The  Fight  BETWEEN  THE  Two  Had  been  A  Lively  One"         .         .     174 

Saw  Tooth   Mountain   Bandit   Cabin   where  my  Revolver  was 

Stolen .     175 


xvi  Illustrations 

PAGB 

"When  Pard  Went  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  he  Had  to  Cross  the 

Missouri  on  a  Ferryboat"      .         .         .         .         .         .         .178 

General  Fremont,  the  Great  Pathfinder,  and  his  Wife        .         .180 

General  and  Mrs.  George  A.  Crook 181 

Thomas  L.  Kimball        . .  183 

Top  of  Pike's  Peak        .........  1S7 

Hagerman  Pass,  Colo.,  11,500  Feet  ABOVE  Sea  Level      .         .         .189 

Cheyenne  Falls    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  190 

Santa  Fe  in  1879 193 

North  Pueblo  near  Santa  F6 I94 

View  of  Pueblo  from  the  South    .......  195 

The  Sacred  Grove  of  Pueblo  de  Las  Taos 197 

San  Juan  Plow  and  Car I99 

San  Juan  Dago  and  his  Burro 200 

Pottery  of  the  San  Juan  Indians           ......  201 

"Quick   as   a  Thought    he   was   Pulling   his    Great   Stalwart 

Figure  from  out  the  Coach"        ......     205 

"Crossing  its  Pure,  Swift  Waters  Half  a  Dozen  Times"       .         .  207 

Grand  Lake,  Middle  Park,  Colo. 209 

"The  Branches  Rubbed  ME  OUT  OF  My  Saddle"     ....  212 

"We  Went  over  with  Baggage,  Mail,  Treasure  Box,  and  Tools"  219 

Gunnison  Disturbers  of  the  Peace       ......  220 

The  Beautiful  Gunnison  Valley 225 

"The  House  Had  No  Semblance  of  a  Home  inside  or  out"     .         .227 

Spectre  Monument        .........  230 

Ready  for  the  Trail 233 

Hunting  on  Skees 234 

Gate  of  Ladore,  Colorado  River 236 

Wagon  Wheel  Gap 238 

A  Herd  of  Antelope  Scenting  Danger 239 


Illustrations  xvii 

PAGE 

A  San  Juan  Trail .241 

The  Royal  Gorge 242 

To  Leadville  in  its  Early  Days    .....*.     246 

Chestnut  Street,  Leadville,  in  Boom  Times  ....     247 

"Then  the  Sleeping  Populace  Awoke  to  a  Renewed  Carnival  of 

Vice  and  Folly"     .........     249 

Pack  Train  Loaded  for  the  Mines         .         .         .         .         .         .251 

A  Beautiful  Herd  of  Elk     ........     255 

The  Windowless  House  at  Henry's  Lake      .....     257 

Lords  of  the  Yellowstone    .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .259 

Excelsior  Geyser 261 

"  The  River  of  Water  Tore  its  Way  up  through  the  Bowels  of  the 

Earth  AND  Dashed  High  in  the  Air" 263 

Where  Pard  might  have  been        .......     266 

"With  only  the  Stars  for  a  Canopy  we  Lay  in  the  Midst  of  the 

Greatest  Wonders  of  THE  World  "  .....     267 

"When  the  Elk  was  Believed  to  be  Dead  it  Jumped  Up  and 

Sprang  at  Them      {In  Color) 270 

"Pure  White  as  Alabaster  Could  be  and  as  Solid  as  Granite"    .     273 

Gardner  River,  Hot  Springs 274 

Jupiter  Terrace  of  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs      ....     276 

Fishing  at  Yellowstone  Lake 278 

The  Falls  and  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Yellowstone       .         .         .281 

Great  Falls  of  the  Yellowstone  Three  Hundred  and  Ninety- 
seven  Feet  High     .........     284 

There  's  No  Place  like  Home 289 

A  Doleful  Incident  of  the  Overland  Trail         .         .         .         .291 

The  Way  they  Make  the  Desert  Drink        .         .         .         .         .     293 

Where  the  Inidans  Fought  for  the  Camas  Root  ....     295 

"The  Overland  Hotel  was  a  Two-story  Ramble  Shack,  but  quite 

Palatial  AFTER  OUR  Hard  Experiences"  ....     296 


xviii  Illustrations 

PAGE 

Idaho  Ox    Teams   were    Bringing  in  some   6,000,000  Pounds  of 

Freight  Annually  .........  298 

"We  were  again  Ferried  over  Snake  River  to  the  Oregon  Side"  301 

Sheep  Range  among  the  Pines  of  Oregon 302 

Fish  Hawk,  War  Chief  of  the  Cayuses          .         .         .         .         .  304 

A  Umatilla  Ranger       .         .         . 306 

"White  Bull  Spent  his  Allotment  of  Seven  Thousand  Dollars  in 
Six  Weeks,  then  Went  to  Sleep  on  the  Railroad  and  Ended 

his  Career"    ..........  308 

Our  Ferryboat  at  Lewiston  had  been  Running  ever  since  1859  .  311 

"Much  of  its  Course  Ran  through  Magnificent  Canyons  of  its 

OWN  Carving"          .........  311 

Grain  Chute  from  the  Uplands  down  to  the  River       .         .         .312 

City  of  Spokane  Falls  in  the  Early  Eighties        .         .         .         -313 

Old  Hudson  Bay  Post  near  Spokane 314 

The  Lower  Falls  of  Spokane  River      .   ■ 315 

"Fort  Sherman  was  the  most  Attractive  Spot  for  an  Army  Post 

that  ONE  COULD  Imagine  "         .......  317 

The  Old  Mission  on  Cceur  d'Alene  River 318 

Jim  Wardner's  Pack  Train  of  1884 319 

Our  Tillicums  on  the  Shadowy  St.  Joe           .         .         .         .         .  320 

"  Spokane  Falls  was  the  Crossroads  for  all  the  Indian  Tribes  in 

THE  Country"          .........  321 

"  If  ever  I  Sent  UP  AN  Earnest  Prayer  FOR  Help  I  Did  IT  then  "   .  323 

The  Beautiful  Falls  of  the  Palouse 324 

The  Awe-Inspiring  Canyon  of  the  Palouse  .         .         .         .         .  325 

"The  Cowhide  on  the   Rails   Smelled  Good  to  the  Famished 

Wolves"          ..........  328 

White  River  Falls  near  The  Dalles,  Oregon       ....  329 

Celilo  Falls,  the  Great  Barrier  to  Navigation  at  The  Dalles  331 

The  Great  Columbia  Waterway  between  Lewiston  and  Portland  332 

A  Block  House  Overlooking  the  Columbia  River     .         .         .  333 


Illustrations  xix 

PAGE 

Picturesque  Indian  Camps  of  the  Umatillas          .         .         .         .  334 

Castle  Rock  on  the  Columbia 335 

The  Rocky  Abutment  of  the  Bridge  of  the  Gods           .         .         .  336 

Gigantic  Balustrades  of  Lava  along  the  Columbia       .         .         .  337 

"La  Tourelle  Falls  Leap  Four  Hundred  Feet  in  a  Graceful 

Curve" 338 

Rounding  Cape  Horn 339 

Portland,  Oregon,  of  To-day         .......  342 

A  Native  Belle  of  Oregon             .......  343 

In  the  Shadow  of  the  Pines  in  Central  Oregon             .         .         .  345 

On  the  Top  of  the  World               .         .         .         .         .         ,         .  347 

A  Crevasse  in  the  Glacier  of  Mount  Hood            ....  348 

At  the  Ferry  Crossing  of  the  Columbia        .....  350 

The  Rock  of  Ages 351 

"The  Oldest  Bell  Tower  IN  THE  World"      .....  352 

Growing  Hops  and  Hop-pickers               .         ...         .         ,         .  355 

Chief  Seattle  for  whom  the  City  of  Seattle  was  Named      .         .  356 

Princess  Angeline,  a  Daughter  of  Chief  Seattle          .         .         .  358 

The  Largest  Tide-Land  Spruce  in  the  World         ....  359 

Drying  and  Mending  Fish-Nets  on  Puget  Sound            .         .         .  360 

Mt.  Rainier  as  Seen  from  the  Waters  of  the  Sound     .         .         .  362 

A  Happy  Family  near  Klamath  on  a  Sunny  Day    ....  365 

The  Harriman  Lodge  on  Klamath  Lake         .....  366 

A  Party  of  Pelicans      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  367 

An  Hour  of  Inspiration  at  Crater  Lake        .....  368 

Crater  Lake's  Phantom  Ship  Rises  Two  Hundred  Feet  from  the 

Surface           ..........  369 

Ice  Cave  near  Bend,  Oregon.    Ice  is  Cut  Every  Day    .         .         .  370 

Ready  for  Business       .         . 372 

First  Post-office  West  of  the  Rockies  Built  at  Astoria  in  1847  373 


XX  Illustrations 

PAGB 

Tillamook  Rock,  the  Graveyard  of  the  Pacific    ....  374 

Cape  Horn 375 

Movable  Fish  Wheel  on  the  Columbia.         .....  376 

The  Old  Cliff  House  and  a  Glimpse  of  the  Golden  Gate      .         .  378 

Del  Monte — "the  Old  Gnarled  Sycamores  and  Live-Oak  Trees 

Are  THE  Crowning  Glory  of  it  All  "       .....  380 

"The  Sweet  Face  of  SeSorita  Bonifacio  still  Beams  under  the 

Rose  Tree" 382 

In  the  Cemetery  of  Santa  Barbara  Mission          ....  383 

Hotel  del  Coronado      .........  384 

Los  Angeles'  China  Town 386 

The  Oriental  Costumes  Were  Novel   and  the  Wearers  Were 

Complacent     ..........  387 

In  the  Land  of  the  Navajos           .......  389 

The  San  Juan  Capistrano  Mission          ......  392 

The  Mud-Baked  City  of  Yuma       .......  394 

Yuma  John  and  his  Squaw.     His  Foot  was  Shot  off  over  a  Hun- 
dred Years  ago       .........  395 

The  Proud  Mother  at  her  Adobe  Hut  ......  396 

"It  was  the  First  Time  our  Fellow  Passengers  had  been  Held  up 

BY  A  Mule"     ..........  397 

"Highwaymen  Run  down  a  Pedestrian  Half  a  Block  from  us"  .  399 

A  Prince  of  the  Cactus  Land         . 400 

The  Entrance  to  San  Xavier  in  Tucson         .....  402 

In  the  Court  of  a  Wood  Merchant       ......  403 

Within  the  Walls  of  a  Pueblo      .......  404 

Mexican  Ovens  in  Tucson 406 

ZuNi  War  Dance 407 

Cliff-Dwellers'  Palace  in  Arizona       ......  409 

A  Rocky  Pass  in  the  Arizona  Mountains       .         .         .         .         .  410 

The  Burden  Bearer      .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  412 

The  First  Cabin  in  the  Woods  by  the  River          ....  415 


Illustrations  xxi 

PAGE 

A  Box  Party  on  Wood  River,  Watching  the  Star  Actors      .         .419 

"The  Boys  at  the  Emily  Mine  Sent  us  Creels  of  Speckled 

Beauties"       ..........  421 

"It  Took  a  Herd  of  Oxen  to  Haul  the  Gigantic  Boiler  to  the 

Mines"  . 423 

Pack  Train  Headed  for  a  New  Camp 427 

A  Typical  Trouble  Maker 428 

"  He  Held  HIS  Revolver  Pressed  into  Pard's  Side  "        .  430 

"There  Was  No  Other  Jail  but  a  Hole  in  the  Ground  with 

Guards  OVER  it" 434 

A  Diversion  on  a  Lonely  Trail  of  the  Desert      ....  437 

Sweet-Milk,  Butter-Milk,  Tea  or  Coffee 438 

"Sage-Brush  Is  the  Freighters'  Salvation  from  Jack  Frost "^      .  440 

Shoshone  Falls  from  the  Hotel    .......  442 

Shoshone  Falls  from  Below.         .......  445 

Water  Carriers  of  the  Desert 45o 

The  Way  one  Feels  after  Several  Days  in  a  Stage-Coach    .  451 

We  Found  rather  an  Uninviting  Cabin  among  the  Willows  .         .  454 

Preparing  for  a  Quick  Change  of  Horses 458 

A  Mormon  Family  by  the  Wayside         ......  463 

A  Princess  of  her  Tribe        ........  466 

"They  Gambled  in  the  Light  of  the  Sage-Brush  Fire"          .         .  470 

"  Many  Times  the  Men  had  to  Get  out  and  Pick  their  Way  around 

THE  Mud-Holes" 47^ 

Cutting,  Binding,  and  Threshing  All  at  Once       ....  477 

The  Smooth  Road  one  Travels  now  along  the  Columbia  479 

8,000,000  Feet  of  Timber  Ready  for  a  Tow  to  San  Francisco         .  481 

The  Three  Sisters 482 

Nevada  Falls 484 

Inspiration  Point 485 

Our  Coach  and  Four  in  the  Sheltering  Monarch's  Heart     .         .  486 


xxii  Illustrations 


PAGE 

YosEMiTE  Falls 487 

They  Were  Charming  Companions  under  all  Circumstances         .  489 

With  the  Caldwells  in  a  San  Diego  Tea  Garden  Thirty  Years 

Later      ...........  490 

"The  Gray  Sage-Brush  and  Greasewood  Bushes  were  the  only 

Signs  of  Vegetation" 494 

Bucking  Broncho 496 

The  Hold-up  at  American  Falls 499 

"They  Played  better  than  Utah's  Band  at  American  Falls"      .  501 

"Teams  and  Saddle  Horses  Left  their  Owners  to  get  Home  as 

Best  THEY  Could  "            ........  503 

Boise  City  Cartoons  Pard  for  Starting  Rival  Towns  .         .         .  506 

"A  Voluntary  Enterprise  without  Precedent  in  the  History  of 

THE  Presbyterian  Church  "     ....                  .         .  511 

"The  Coyotes  Scented  THE  Prey" 518 

"It  Meant  Chickens  in  the  Pot,  Cakes  in  the  Oven,  and  Bread 

IN  THE  Pan"    ..........  520 

Some  of  our  Pioneer  Friends  of  Caldwell 523 

"Then  the  Caldwellites  Chartered  the  Stage  and  Went  Home"  526 

"Pat  Devers  Escapes  A  Warm  Hug"      ......  528 

"They  Hoisted  THEIR  Burros  A  Hundred  and  Sixteen  Feet"          .  529 

Our  Party  had  Left  the  Hot  Boise  Valley  for  the  Shade  of  the 

Pines !         .         .         .         .  530 

"  He  Ran  all  over  the  Pasture  with  the  Pig  Squealing  at  Every 

Jump" 532 

"The  Town  of  Caldwell  Lifted  its  Head  from  the  White  Alkali 

OF  THE  Boise  Valley  "         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .  537 

"It  WAS  A  Perilous  Moment  AND  AN  Unfortunate  Hour"      .         .  539 

Jack  Wells  ...........  542 

Jim  Clements  Starts  through  the  Snow  to  the  Station         .         .  547 

"She  has  Borne  a  Large  Family  amid   Such   Distressing  Con- 
ditions"   550 

Totem  Poles  at  Wrangel 554 


Illustrations  xxiii 

PACK 

An  Indian  Honeymoon 555 

The  Medicine  Man 556 

A' Totem  Pole  of  the  "Geo.  W.  Elder" 558 

a  potlatch  at  juneau 560 

The  Muir  Glacier  in  1888 562 

Our  Steamer  Narrowly  Escaped  being  Crushed  by  the  Ice  Floes  564 

Sitka's  Main  Street  and  the  Old  Greek  Church  ....  566 

"The  Stroll  TO  Indian  River  WAS  Bewitching"     ....  567 

Sitka's  Mercantile  Squaws  Object  to  Cameras     ....  568 

KiLLisNoo  Jake      .....                   ....  569 

A  Street-Corner  Nursery    ........  570 

Nearing  the  Home  Shore                .         .                   .         .         .  571 

"The  Fascination  of  the  Trip  was  in  the  Bold  and  Minareted 

Peaks'' 576 

"We  Roamed  about  the  Woods  Contiguous  to  our  Camp"    .         .  578 

"Some  Poor  Fellows  have  been  Jilted  by  the  Girls  to  whom 

THEY  have  Given  their  Hearts'  Best  Love"    ....  581 

"A  Freighter  is  not  necessarily  a  Bad  Man"      ....  582 

Hailey  Hot  Springs 584 

The  Ladies'  Plunge  Bath      ........  587 

Jay  Gould  and  Family  with  Haily  Citizens 588 

"It  Required    nearly  Three   Hours   to  Get   around  our  own 

Little  Park"           .........  590 

"The  Shasta  Route  has  Become  one  of  the  Greatest  Attractions 

FOR  American  Travellers  "     .......  593 

Snoqualmie  Falls 595 

"The  Very  Sands  WERE  Full  OF  Clams"         .         .         .         .    ,     .  597 

A  Novel  Turning  of  Puget  Sound  Forest  Lands  into  Farms          .  599 

"Long  Wooded  Avenues  Reveal   most  Gorgeous  Colorings  of 

Vine-Clad  Rocks  "  .........  600 

An  Open  House 602 


xxiv  Illustrations 

PAGE 

The  Butte  Shoemaker  and  his  Motherless  Children    .         .         .     603 

Mr.  Kelsey  Estimating  Axe  Handles    ......     607 

"  Lake  McDonald  Lay  before  us  IN  All  ITS  Scenic  Opulence  "       .     608 

The  "  Fine  Hotel  "  Consisted  of  a  Log  Cabin  Fifteen  Feet  Square    610 

"  Life  Was  AN  Ideal  OF  Nomadic  Bliss  "  .         .         .         .         .611 

"  The  Great  Elk  HAD  Fallen  Stunned  "  .         .         .         .         .     613 

Pard  in  the  Bridal  Chamber  at  McCarthyville    ....     614 

Shooting  the  Rapids  of  the  Flathead  .         .         .         .         .         .616 

"  The  History  of  '  the  Beaver'  was  an  Unending  Romance  "     .         .     620 

An  Indian  Fishing  Camp         .         .  .         .         .         .621 

The  Passion  Play  by  British  Columbia  Indians     ....     623 

Indians  Drying  Fish  and  Game 624 

Dick  Sat  in  the  Mess  Tent  with  a  Hot  Potato  on  his  Aching 

Tooth 627 

Indian  Harry  in  Borrowed  Finery        ......  630 

"  We  HAD  Entrusted  OURSELVES  TO  A  Strange  Party  "     .         .         .  632 

Judge  Goodwin  Purcell         ........  635 

"Our  Camp  Was  AN  Ideal  One  IN  Every  Way"       ....  637 

"Not  A  Brush  Cracked  Under  Old  Mary's  Catlike  Tread"           .  640 

"Pard  in  Slippers  and  Pajamas  Hastened  to  Investigate"    .         .  642 

Industrious  Daughters  of  the  House   ......  644 

A  POTLATCH  AT  LaKE  DoUGLAS  .  .  .  .  .  .       645 

Camp  on  the  Little  Big  Horn  near  the  Custer  Battle-field     .  650 

The  Monument  for  Custer's  Three  Hundred     ....  652 

General  Crook  with  Staff  Officers  and  War  Correspondents     .  653 

Crook's  Army  had  to  Kill  and  Eat  the  Disabled  Horses      .         .  654 

"The  Tall  Graceful  Cocoanuts  Swayed  their  Tops  Languorously"  655 

Honolulu  Belles  with  Flower  Leis  around  their  Necks      .         .  657 

Green  Turtle  for  Dinner 658 

Surf  Riding  near  Diamond  Head 660 


Illustrations  xxv 

PAGE 

A  Hawaiian  Spearing  Fish 66 1 

"He  was  Ten  Feet  Long  and  would  probably  have  Weighed  500 

Pounds" 663 

A  Happy  Family  Taking  a  Sun  Bath  on  Layson  Island     .         .         .     664 

GooNiES  and  their  Eggs  on  Layson  Island     .         .         .         .         .     666 

"We  were  Transferred  at  the  End  of  a  Rope  by  a  Derrick"   .     667 

"There  is  a  Measure  of  Sadness  in  the  Passing  of  the  Lumbering 

Stage-Coach 671 

"The  Lonely  Outpost  of  a  Dying  Race" 672 


Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Fifteen  Thousand  Miles 
BY  Stage 


CHAPTER   I 
BEGINNING  THE  STAGE-COACH  HONEYMOON 


■<^s 


fjHE  wedding 
bells  had  peal- 
ed merrily  over 
the  little  village 
in  northern  Illi- 


nois, the  marriage  cere- 
mony was  over,  and 
amid  laughter  and 
1^    tears   the    guests 
|§^  had    departed. 
There   were 
many  mis- 
givings thir- 
ty-three   years 
'"  ''^  ago  over  a  life  to  be 
spent    away  out   on   the 
Par  West  plains  and  mountains.     Peo- 
ple east  of  the  Mississippi  really 
believed  such  a  life  meant  only 
hardship    and     danger,    rubbing 
elbows  with  the  slayers  of  Custer,   the  broncho 
busters,   gamblers,    and  rough   elements  generally.      Even 
the  few  better  advised  pictured  it  a  mere  existence  among 
cattle   barons,  cowboys,  miners,  and  freighters,    forgetting 
their  own  earlier  days  in  the  now  middle  West  where  their  pio- 
neering had  met  with  charms  and  fascinations  they  still  loved  to 


2  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

recall.  The  multitude  of  friends  thought  it  little  less  than  a 
calamity  in  1877  that  a  giri  should  choose  as  a  life  partner  one 
who  would  carry  her  out  into  that  mysterious  and  unsettled 
country. 

A  dear  old  uncle,  the  local  printer,  was  so  sure  of  an  error 
in  copy  for  the  wedding  invitation  that  he  changed  the  name 
of  the  bridegroom  to  suit  the  general  supposition  that  a 
suitor  less  liable  to  roam  in  savage  lands  was  to  have  first  place. 
When  the  engraving  had  to  be  changed  to  suit  the  bride  instead 
of  Dame  Rumor  he  said  the  father  must  have  lost  his  usual  good 
judgment  to  allow  such  a  wedding  to  take  place.  He  did  not 
know  that  the  dear  old  father's  tearful  consent  had  been  the  most 
forceful  opposition  to  the  nuptials.  As  the  one  most  interested  I 
knew  the  struggle  in  his  heart  was  between  his  love  for  me  and 
my  happiness. 

It  was  not  particularly  reassuring  that  the  tall,  boyishly 
slender  bridegroom  had  come  with  the  halo  of  a  hero,  fresh  from 
the  Sioux  battle-fields.  He  had  been  with  General  Crook's 
command  against  the  hostile  Sioux  and  Cheyennes,  with  Sitting 
Bull,  Crazy  Horse,  Dull  Knife,  and  Little  Wolf  as  Indian  lead- 
ers. The  newspapers  had  thrilled  the  village  with  tales  of 
Indian  warfare  in  which  this  newcomer  had  participated  and 
now  the  younger  generation  stood  in  open-mouthed  wonder  and 
their  elders  in  awe  and  homage  due  one  who  had  come  unscathed 
through  such  experiences.  I  must  confess  the  opposition  and 
these  thrilling  recitals  did  not  leave  me  wholly  without  mis- 
givings. One  incident  of  that  Sioux  war,  however,  will  give 
an  idea  of  the  manner  of  man  I  was  to  follow  into  an  unknown 
future:  He  had  not  gone  as  an  enlisted  soldier  with  General 
Crook,  but  as  a  civilian  to  report  the  war  news  to  the  New 
York  Times,  Chicago  Tribune,  and  the  Rocky  Mountain 
News.  He  wore  civilian  dress,  but  General  Crook  said:  "It 
mattered  not  what  the  coat  was;  Bob  was  every  inch  a  soldier, 
always  the  first  man  to  the  front  when  the  battle  call  was  on, 
where  he  could  get  his  news  in  the  most  reHable  way,  and  he 
never  failed  to  work  his  rifle  as  well  as  his  pen." 

In  the  famous  battle  of  Powder  River  where  forty-seven 
were  assigned  to  charge  through  the  Crazy  Horse  camp  and 
stampede  the  savages  on  to  Major  Moore's  much  larger  force 
which  was  to  be  in  ambush,  Bob  was  one  of  the  forty-seven 


Beginning  the  Stage-Coach  Honeymoon      3 

mounted  on  one  of  the  best  of  the  "Egan  Grays."  The  "Egan 
Grays"  were  the  pick  and  pride  of  General  Crook's  cavalry, 
commanded  by  Teddy  Egan,  and  on  this  occasion  Captain 
Teddy  remarked  that  Bob  would  not  be  at  the  tail  end  of  the 
party  so  long  as  he  stayed  on  that  mount.  The  forty-seven 
brave  troopers  surely  did  awaken  the  camp  on  that  terrific 
charge.  Teddy  Egan's  horse  was  shot  in  the  neck,  Lieut.  John 
G.  Bourke's  bridle  rein  was  shot  out  of  his  hand,  Hospital  Stew- 
ard Bryan's  horse  was  killed  under  him,  and  in  a  few  minutes 


Bob's  stampeded  mount  fell  over  a  precipice  and  broke  its  neck  " 


troopers  were  being  killed  and  wounded,  and  Bob's  stampeded 
mount  fell  over  a  precipice  and  broke  its  neck.  The  camp  was 
so  much  larger  than  Major  Moore  had  counted  on  that  he  re- 
fused to  take  the  position  assigned  him  or  let  any  more  troops 
go  to  the  rescue  of  the  forty-seven,  believing  every  man  in  the 
attacking  party  would  be  killed. 

The  battle  raged  for  hours  in  the  heart  of  the  Indian  village 
which  was  destroyed  by  fire  at  the  first  onslaught.  Early  in  the 
fray  all  hands  dismounted,  using  dead  horses  and  logs  as  breast- 
works of  defence,  while  fighting  to  the  death  and  waiting  for 
the  rescuers  who  did  not  come. 


4  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  soldiers  with  Major  Moore  heard  the  incessant  firing 
and  could  even  see  the  terrible  battle  from  their  safe  vantage 
ground  on  neighboring  bluffs  and  begged  to  go  to  the  rescue  of 
their  comrades.  Fearing  a  mutiny  at  his  refusal,  the  commander 
said  he  would  have  the  first  man  shot  who  started  to  the  Indian 
camp.  Finally  Col.  T.  H.  Stanton,  of  the  pay  department, 
like  Barbara  Frietchie  and  her  flag,  stepped  from  the  rank  and 
said,  "Shoot  me  if  you  will,  but  I  am  going  to  help  our  comrades. 
Come,  boys,  how  many  of  you  will  go  with  me?"  Out  sprang 
eight  men  only  who  dared  to  disobey  their  commander,  but 
away  they  flew  yelling  like  a  band  of  Indians  and  calling  loudly 
to  the  boys  in  the  battle:  "Hold  on,  we're  coming."  Down 
the  mountain  they  flew,  making  such  a  din  with  their  yelling 
and  their  rifle  volleys  that  the  Indians  were  deceived  in  the 
number  of  the  party  and  took  to  their  ponies  and  their  heels  in  a 
panic.  Help  had  come  none  too  soon,  for  twelve  of  the  forty- 
seven  were  already  past  the  fighting  stage,  and  lay  dead  and 
wounded  by  their  rifles. 

The  brave  Colonel  Stanton  was  never  shot  as  threatened  by 
the  timorous  Moore,  but  a  long  and  spirited  court-martial  fol- 
lowed in  which  Major  Moore  was  condemned,  while  a  little 
later  Colonel  Stanton  was  made  Paymaster-General  of  the 
United  States  Army. 

Teddy  Egan  said  when  we  met  in  later  years  that  the  success 
of  that  day  was  due  not  a  little  to  the  coolness  and  good 
marksmanship  of  Pard  and  Lieut.  John  G.  Bourke,  an  officer 
of  General  Crook's  staff,  both  of  whom  were  commended  in 
general  orders  by  the  Secretary  of  War  for  exceptional  gallantry. 

It  was  thus  just  after  the  close  of  the  Sioux  war  that  Pard  was 
made  a  prisoner  by  a  pale-faced  maiden,  as  the  western  news- 
papers expressed  it,  but  it  was  a  case  of  captive  leading  the 
captor,  for  back  they  went  to  the  same  trackless  wilderness 
where  he  had  fought  with  sword  and  pen  for  first  news. 

In  1877  there  was  but  one  transcontinental  railway  across 
the  desert  West,  the  combined  Union  and  Central  Pacific  road 
from  Omaha  to  San  Francisco.  There  were  no  railroads  north 
or  northwest  of  Utah,  and  but  a  short  branch  west  of  St.  Paul. 

In  those  days  the  frontier  was  no  myth,  but  it  was  there 
with  its  dangers  and  hardships  still  to  be  endured.  Hundreds 
of  thousands  of  square  miles  were  still  marked  upon  the  school 


00 


.s 


6 


Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


maps  as  "unexplored  regions."  Stage  lines,  hundreds  upon  hun- 
dreds of  miles  in  length,  traversed  lands  that  were  otherwise  un- 
explored, to  reach  outposts  and  entrepots  of  the  great  frontier. 
Wyoming,  with  its  vast  area,  greater  than  all  the  New  England 
States  combined,  had  but  a  scattered  poptdation  of  20,000  peo- 
ple, mostly  distributed  in  a  thin  fringe  along  the  line  of  the  newly 
built  Union  Pacific  Railroad  which  traversed  the  southern  bound- 
ary of  the  territory.  The  middle  and  north  sections  were  given 
up  to  roving  tribes  of  Indians,  with  here  and  there  on  the  plains 
a  few  reckless  cattlemen,  whose  herds  had  so  recently  displaced 
the  myriads  of  buffalo,  and  in  the  hills  a  few  adventurous  gold- 


A  buffalo  herd  holding  up  a  train 

seekers  who  kept  themselves  fortified  from  the  red  enemy. 
The  only  nucleus  of  any  considerable  number  of  whites  off  the 
railroad  was  away  up  in  the  Sweetwater  country  at  South 
Pass,  where  some  two  thousand  people  had  more  firmly  established 
themselves  and  their  rich  possessions. 

The  venture  of  Brigham  Young  in  peopling  and  reclaiming  the 
Salt  Lake  Valley  was  still  fresh  on  the  page  of  history,  but  the 
Salt  Lake  Valley  was  but  a  gateway  to  the  great  Northwest. 
Brave,  restless,  pioneering  spirits  pushed  on  in  the  same  way  as 
their  forefathers  had  done,  but  there  was  the  satisfaction  that 
civilization  was  creeping  more  rapidly  behind  the  pathfinders. 

It  was  small  wonder  that  old  friends  looked  solemn  and  that 
tears  streamed  down  parental  cheeks  when  a  daughter  was  going 
to  such  an  unknown  life  and  country.    Few  girls  realize  what  they 


9rit  .  .  .  29{bbB2  lisxiJ  otni  baqBsI  biB^  bna  enBiilooO  aA" 
balluq  taB^ani  om&a  edi  tB  baB  ^eiBm  eid  oi  aiuqa  odi  iuq  leraio! 
.d  .q     ".nBibnl  odl  toria  bnB  .  .  .  lavlovsi  2id 


n  Thousand 


)y  Stat 


cri\ 


anexplored  rcj^.^..>. 
liles  in  length,  tra\ 

'■  outposts 

-  ^t,>  "  --  vast  arc 

States  combined,  had  but 
pie,  mosth 
bxiilt  Unio! 
ary  of  the  territor} 
up  to  roving  tribes 
a  few  reckless  cattl 
the  myriads  of  bui 


UVii\_>.J.O     ULI 


er 


L^on  hun- 

^  that  were  otherwise  tm- 

ots  of  the  great  frontier. 

.  Lhan  all  the  New  England 

cd  population  of  20,000  peo- 

.^e  along  the  le  newly 

ra versed  the  ^-...  .      .»  bound- 

nd  north  sections  were  given 

here  and  there  on  the  plains 

-jrds  had  so  recently  displaced 

the  hills  a  few  adventurous  gold- 


.:^H 


^"As  Cochrane  and  Pard  leaped  into  their  saddles  .  .  .  the 
former  put  the  spurs  to  his  mare,  and  at  the  same  instant  pulled 
his  revolver  .  .  .  and  shot  the  Indian."     p.  6. 

Draw  a  by  Charles  M.  Russell. 


TI 

railrot. 
Pass.w 
thems' 

Th- 
Salt  La... 
Salt  Lake 
Brave,  rest 
their  forefa* 
civilization  was 

It  was  smal' 
tears  streamed 
to  such  an  unknown  life 


ierable  number  of  whites  off  the 
Sweetwater  country  at  South 
neople  had  more  firmly  established 
ssions. 

mg  in  peopling  and  reclaiming  the 

1  on  the  page  of  history,  but  the 

rateway  to  the  great  Northwest. 

;ts  pushed  on  in  the  same  way  as 

.  there  was  the  satisfaction  that 

rapidly  behind  the  pathfinders. 

1  friends  looked  solemn  and  that 

heeks  when  a  daughter  was  going 

try.    Few  girls  realize  what  they 


Beginning  the  Stage-Coach  Honeymoon       7 

are  doing  when  they  leave  the  shelter  of  a  loving  home  life  for  a 
man  who  may  only  be  full  of  promises  he  cannot  fulfil. 

The  dear  old  father,  who  had  reluctantly  given  his  consent 
to  a  marriage  that  would  take  his  beloved  daughter  so  far  from 
home  and  friends,  packed  the  boxes  for  the  new  home  with  the 
generous  bridal  gifts  and  home  linens  and  cemented  them  to- 
gether with  his  tears,  which  he  tried  dextrously  to  hide  by  a 


**  The  real  home  for  many  years  was  in  the  saddle  or  stage-coach  " 

cheery  voice:  "I  say,  mother,  I  made  oiu*  new  son  promise  to 
put  in  a  hundred  bushels  of  potatoes  every  fall,  but  if  he  stays 
in  Wyoming  I  think  he  will  have  to  rustle  some  when  its  credits 
now  are  only  wind  and  Indians.'*  "Well,  pa,  don't  worry," 
mother  replied,  "  It  does  seem  a  long  ways  to  be  from  home  if 
things  don't  go  right,  but  so  long  as  daughter  can  sing  as  she 


8  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

does  now  she  will  never  go  hungry,  for  they  do  say  there  are 
chiirches  in  Cheyenne  just  the  same  as  here.  Everybody 
says  our  church  won't  know  what  to  do  without  their  'sweet 
singer.'  But  you  know  a  girl  always  thinks  she  knows  more 
than  anybody  else  about  the  man  she  wants  to  marry.  She 
weaves  a  halo  about  him  that  makes  it  pretty  hard  for  him  to 
live  up  to,  but  sometimes  he  does  it.  You  know  she  is  a  pretty 
good  judge  of  human  nature  and  maybe  he  '11  surprise  us  all 
some  day  by  living  up  to  her  ideal.  He  don't  seem  to  know 
much  about  women,  but  he  does  seem  dreadfully  fond  of  our 
girl.  It  was  really  funny  last  night  to  hear  him  tell  Rev. 
Hutchinson,  the  minister,  that  the  bride-to-be  wanted  the 
word  'obey'  left  out  of  the  ceremony  because  there  is  Woman's 
Suffrage  in  Wyoming,  and  suggest,  '  If  you  don't  want  to  leave 
it  out  entirely,  just  put  it  in  my  part,  for  I  've  been  running 
wild  so  long  I  just  want  to  be  obliged  to  obey  somebody.'" 

That  was  not  hard  to  believe  when  he  raised  his  voice  in  full, 
round  tones  with  an  "  I  will "  or  an  "  I  do  "  whenever  the  minister 
made  a  slight  pause  in  the  marriage  ceremony.  In  answering 
at  all  such  impressive  pauses  he  could  not  fail  to  answer  in  the 
right  place  and  give  the  impression  that  he  was  in  dead  earnest 
in  the  matter.  The  incident  caused  a  perfect  round  of  merriment 
and  the  funereal  restraint  common  on  such  occasions  was  re- 
placed by  a  burst  of  applause  for  the  nervy  man  from  the 
West. 

Pard  had  just  published  a  two  hundred  and  fifty  page  book 
on  the  resources  of  Wyoming,  and  while  at  Omaha  en  route  to 
Cheyenne  after  the  wedding  he  was  urged  by  General  Passenger 
Agent  Thos.  L.  Kimball  on  behalf  of  Mr.  Gould,  to  create  and 
take  charge  of  a  publicity  department  for  the  Union  Pacific 
Railroad  Company.  His  book  on  Wyoming  was  the  kind  of 
a  book  that  they  wanted  written  on  every  State  and  Territory 
their  lines  reached  or  intended  to  reach,  and  they  also  wanted 
to  know  the  esources  of  all  the  country  west  and  northwest, 
that  they  might  know  where  and  how  to  extend  their  railroads 
to  commercial  advantage.  It  was  an  undertaking  of  great  scope, 
and  would  require  travel  almost  without  end. 

Pard's  ambition  knew  no  bounds,  but  it  required  much  con- 
sideration before  accepting  the  position  and  he  then  required  that 
I  be  allowed  to  accompany  him  on  all  his  journeys.     He  would 


Beginning  the  Stage-Coach  Honeymoon       9 

not  take  me  so  far  away  from  friends,  then  leave  me  alone  in  a 
desolate  country,  and  he  never  did. 

Instead  of  a  home  in  the  windy  city  of  Cheyenne,  as  had  been 
anticipated,  it  was  only  a  sort  of  home  station  for  repairs  and 
an  occasional  few  days'  rest,  and  the  real  home  was  in  the  stage- 
coach and  saddle  for  many  years  that  followed. 

At  Omaha,  we  were  guests  at  the  Grand  Central  Hotel  which 
was  then  located  where  The  Paxton  stands  now.  It  was  burned  a 
few  years  later,  and  thus  was  obliterated  a  place  where  we  had  the 
first  startling  episode  of  an  eventful  life.  A  terrible  storm  came 
up  one  night,  such  as  are  often  experienced  along  the  Missouri 
River  bottoms.  The  lightning  flashed  in  blinding  fury  and  the 
thunder  roared  like  a  thousand  cannon.     Wakened  by  the  com- 


First  home  of  Platte  Valley  Masonic  Lodge  No.  32.    On  Old  Oregon 
trail.    Built  1870 


motion  I  went  into  the  sitting-room  to  close  a  window.  Pard 
heard  the  noise,  and  thinking  it  was  a  burglar,  he  softly  crept  into 
the  room,  lifted  a  chair  above  his  head,  and  approached  the  spot 
whence  came  a  slight  rustle;  he  was  just  ready  to  strike  the  in^ 
truder  to  the  floor  when  a  flash  of  lightning  revealed  my  white- 
robed  figure  at  the  window  gazing  at  the  storm.  The  chair  fell 
from  his  hand  with  a  crash,  and  he  was  limp  with  terror  at  coming 
so  near  a  domestic  tragedy.  It  was  only  the  timely  lightning 
that  kept  him  from  felling  me  to  the  floor  as  he  was  sure  he  had 
left  me  in  bed.  A  curious  coincidence  might  be  stated  in  the 
fact  that  at  that  very  time  Omaha  was  greatly  excited  over  a  trial 
for  murder  of  a  man  who  had  shot  and  killed  his  wife  in  mis- 
taking her  for  a  burglar.     Such  events  seemed  to  be  in  the  air, 


lo  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

and  we  decided  to  wear  bells  on  our  toes  when  we  made  night 
raids  thereafter. 

In  Omaha  at  that  time  we  were  often  gtiests  in  the  home  of 
General  Crook  where,  with  the  General  and  the  officers  of  his  staff, 
Pard  lived  over  and  again  the  experiences  of  many  an  Indian 
battle-field,  and  they  had  many  a  good  joke  to  tell  on  one  an- 
other. It  gave  me  a  new  insight  into  a  warrior's  heart,  for  while 
they  laughed  and  joked  over  many  a  heartrending  episode,  it 
was  only  to  cover  the  tear  in  the  eye  and  to  hide  the  depth  of  the 
heart- thrust  such  incidents  gave  each  and  every  one.  That 
little  early  experience  served  me  in  good  stead  oftentimes  after- 
ward and  taught  me  to  be  lenient  to  some  seemingly  blusterous 
individual  who  might  only  be  struggling  for  mastery  over  his 
deeper  feelings. 

Famum  Street,  the  main  business  street  of  Omaha,  had  not 
.yet  been  paved  and  it  was  an  odd  sight  to  see  the  teams  and 
wagons  get  stuck  in  the  mud  on  that  central  thoroughfare. 
Even  horses  drawing  light  buggies  shared  the  same  fate,  and  a 
few  months  later  our  own  carriage  stuck  fast  en  route  to  the 
railroad  station  and  we  missed  the  last  train  that  could  carry 
us  to  our  friends  in  Chicago  in  time  for  Christmas.  People 
had  to  tie  on  their  rubbers,  or  leave  them  glued  in  the  clay  soil 
of  the  crossings. 


CHAPTER   II 
CHEYENNE 


HEYENNE  was  different,  and  if  it  did 
not  have  mud  it  had  wind.  It  was  no 
joke  that  passengers  on  trains  did  not 
dare  walk  from  one  car  to  another  on 
Cheyenne  Hill  for  fear  of  being  carried 
off.  Of  all  forlorn,  homesick  looking 
towns,  Cheyenne  never  had  an  equal, 
and  my  young  heart  was  filled  with  dis- 
may at  the  thought  of  living  there. 
But  if  there  is  ever  a  time  in  a  woman's 
life  when  she  will  endiire  hardships  and 
make  sunshine  out  of  shadows  it  is  when  she  first  leaves  the 
home  nest  to  follow  the  man  of  her  choice.  There  was  a  lot  of 
good  in  Cheyenne  that  could  not  be  blown  away,  and  memories 
still  cling  lovingly  around  the  raw  old  place.  Hon.  E.  A.  Slack 
and  wife  had  been  East  for  our  wedding  and  that  fact  alone 
gave  us  a  little  home  feeling  in  the  town.  Mr.  Slack  was  man- 
aging editor  and  owner  of  the  Cheyenne  Sun  and  Pard  had 
been  a  hand  at  the  case  and  at  the  desk  in  association  with 
the  editor  before  the  experience  in  the  Sioux  war. 

There  were  many  hard  things  said  and  rough  jokes  sprung  on 
Cheyenne  in  those  days.  For  example,  one  evening  at  the 
theatre  in  Denver  the  villain  of  the  play  was  advised  to  leave 
the  United  States  and  go  to  Cheyenne.  Cheyenne  was  the  chief 
outfitting  point  for  a  chain  of  small  military  posts,  Deadwood 
and  the  Black  Hills  several  hundred  miles  to  the  north,  and  it  was 
between  an  outgoing  and  a  returning  freighter  near  there  that 
the  dialogue  took  place  about  the  famous  load  of  twenty  barrels 
of  whiskey  and  one  sack  of  flour  when  one  said  to  the   other, 

**  What  in are  you  going  to  do  with  so  much  flour?" 

For  laundry  work  we  paid  $2.50  per  dozen  pieces,  and  pianos 

II 


12  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

rented  for  $15  per  month.  That  seemed  enormous  then  when 
fresh  from  the  $3  rental  price  of  Chicago,  but  prices  for  every- 
thing from  bread  to  hats  seemed  extortionate. 

The  present  United  States  Senator,  Chas.  E.  Warren  of 
Wyoming,  was  then  an  enterprising  dry  goods  merchant  of 
Cheyenne,  and  that  he  was  a  man  of  resources  even  regarding 
small  things  was  made  manifest  early  in  his  career.  He  had 
been  married  several  years  before  a  little  daughter  came  to  them, 


Deadwood  in  1876 


the  same  daughter  that  made  life  such  a  joy  to  her  father  after 
her  mother  was  taken  from  them  and  whose  recent  marriage 
caused  such  a  social  stir  at  our  National  Capital. 

When  the  little  miss  was  to  make  her  first  appearance  among 
friends  in  the  East  the  Warren  store  was  searched  for  all  its  best 
materials  for  baby's  outfit,  and  money  and  work  were  lavished 
without  stint  on  the  little  darling's  tucks  and  ruffles.  But  a 
great  heartless  railway  company  made  such  a  mysterious 
disappearance  of  the  trunk  containing  all  the  dress  parade  ward- 
robe, that  when  the  little  family  arrived  at  its  eastern  destina- 


Cheyenne  13 

tion  the  trunk  was  missing  and  could  not  be  found  anywhere. 
The  little  miss  had  to  meet  all  her  relatives  and  new-found  friends 
in  ordinary  store  clothes.  Senator  Warren  struggled  for  years 
to  find  some  trace  of  the  missing  trunk,  but  without  success, 
nor  could  he  secure  any  reimbursement  until  he  thought  of  a 
unique  method  which  he  at  once  put  into  execution.  He  placed 
a  watchman  in  the  railroad  yards  of  Cheyenne  with  instructions 
to  report  the  arrival  of  the  first  freight  car  bearing  the  name  of 
the  road  upon  which  he  travelled.  In  a  day  or  two  the  watch- 
man gave  the  necessary  information.  Senator  Warren  at  once 
went  before  a  local  magistrate  and  sued  out  an  attachment  upon 
the  freight  car.  Then  he  wired  to  the  railroad  officials  stating 
what  he  had  done,  and  awaited  results. 

In  less  than  three  hours  came  a  dispatch  saying  that  a  check 
for  the  value  of  the  missing  trunk  had  been  forwarded  to  him, 
and  asking  him  to  let  the  freight  car  proceed  upon  its  way. 
Then  the  suit  was  withdrawn.  And  now  comes  the  sequel  to  the 
story  in  the  fact  that  the  trunk  has  recently  been  found  after  all 
its  years  of  hiding  in  some  obscure  and  remote  storehouse.  It 
was  found  after  Miss  Warren's  late  marriage,  and  its  contents 
may  yet  make  a  mother's  heart  glad,  as  even  the  cans  of 
condensed  milk  were  intact. 

The  second  railroad  from  Cheyenne  south  to  Denver  was 
completed  at  noon  on  Sunday,  Dec.  4,  1877,  and  the  first  train 
on  this  new  Colorado  Central  road  was  run  on  the  following 
Tuesday,  with  Mr.  Phelps,  the  local  passenger  agent.  Dr.  Gordon 
of  Cheyenne,  Pard,  and  myself  as  the  first  passengers  over  the 
road.  The  time  schedule  to  Denver  was  five  hours,  but  we  were 
seven  hours  in  reaching  Boulder,  only  half  way,  and  changed  our 
car  twice.  The  car  we  started  in  was  the  one  that  carried  Abra- 
ham Lincoln  to  Washington  after  he  was  elected  President  of 
the  United  States,  and  the  same  one  that  carried  his  body  to  its 
place  of  burial.  I  was  never  able  to  learn  how  that  car  became  a 
common  carrier  of  the  windy  desert.  The  outside  was  painted 
a  bright  yellow.  Inside  a  long  seat  ran  the  whole  length  on  either 
side  of  the  car  with  upholstered  cushions,  and  the  upholstery 
was  continued  up  the  sides  of  the  car  between  the  windows. 
It  was  a  great  contrast,  however,  to  the  luxurious  cars  of  the 
present  day. 

There  were  nearly  as  many  churches  in  Cheyenne  in  '77  as 


14  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

there  are  now,  but  I  hope  there  is  less  rivalry.  The  divine 
head,  Rector  Thompkins,  of  the  Episcopalian  diocese,  was  so 
angry  because  I  preferred  to  sing  in  another  choir  than  his,  that 
he  rode  in  the  same  Pullman  car  in  a  section  opposite  my  own 
all  the  way  to  Omaha  without  seeing  me.  At  another  time  his 
choirmaster,  one  Mr.  Wells,  sought  revenge  at  a  public  meeting 
where  we  were  to  sing  a  responsive  duet.  We  had  our  places  on 
the  platform  and  I  had  carried  my  part  and  paused  for  his  re- 
sponse. He  simply  stood  there  with  his  eyes  riveted  on  his 
music  until  the  audience  thought  I  had  made  a  complete  break- 
down. It  was  a  terrible  moment,  but  fortunately  his  part  was 
not  difficult  and  I  took  it  up  and  sang  it  myself,  and  after  that 
first  part  I  did  not  allow  him  a  chance  but  sang  both  parts  to 
the  end.  The  table  turned  on  him  so  completely  that  he  looked 
like  an  apoplectic  when  he  turned  to  his  seat,  and  he  was 
exposed  to  most  cutting  criticism  by  the  musical  fraternity. 

Without  a  spear  of  grass,  without  a  tree  within  the  scope 
of  the  eye,  without  water  except  as  it  was  pumped  for  household 
use,  with  a  soil  sandy,  hard,  and  barren,  and  with  never-ceasing 
wind — that  was  the  raw  Cheyenne  in  the  late  '70's,  in  marked  con- 
trast to  its  parks,  shady  streets,  and  well-kept  lawns  of  to-day. 
That  was  the  place  of  my  early  bride  days.  What  a  transition 
from  the  green  rolling  hills  of  northern  Illinois,  with  all  its 
forests,  its  fruits  and  flowers,  and  rich  harvest  fields,  and  its 
clear  flowing  rivers. 

In  all  my  girlhood  the  one  thing  that  I  wanted  to  avoid  in 
my  life  was  to  be  a  pioneer.  So  often  had  I  listened  to  tales  of 
my  elders  of  "  '49  and  spring  of  '50"  etc.,  that  it  had  made  me 
say  many  times  that  I  would  never  be  a  pioneer  and  be  called 
the  oldest  settler  in  a  town  or  country,  or  one  of  the  early 
ones  in  any  State  history.  Yet,  there  I  was  at  the  very  thresh- 
old of  a  new  land  where  I  was  to  be  the  first  woman  in  many 
then  unexploited  regions,  and  the  title  of  "old  settler"  was  to 
be  indelibly  and  forever  attached  to  me  and  mine. 

The  matrimonial  venture  did  not  lead  me  to  the  duties  of 
a  matron  with  home,  children,  and  windows  full  of  flowers,  but 
our  launch  was  pushed  into  the  sea  of  adventure  paralleled  by 
none  save  that  of  my  own  Pard,  whom  I  followed  for  thirty 
years  wheresoe'er  he  blazed  the  trail,  until  we  were  captivated 
b.v  the  soughing  pines  of  Spokane. 


Cheyenne  15 

Soon  after  our  arrival  in  Cheyenne,  the  locality  was  visited 
by  the  worst  hail  storm  in  its  history.  In  otir  house  a  hail- 
stone went  through  a  window,  then  through  a  cane-seated 
chair,  hitting  the  floor  with  force  enough  to  bound  back  and 
make  a  second  hole  through  the  cane  seat.  The  city  looked  as 
if  Fort  Russell  had  turned  her  batteries  loose  on  the  town,  for 
there  was  scarcely  a  north  window  left  unbroken.  Many  of  the 
stones  measured  seven  inches  in  circumference,  and  otir  enter- 
prising landlady  gathered  enough  hailstones  to  freeze  several 
gallons  of  cream  and  then  gave  what  she  called  a  hailstone  party. 

Old  Fort  Russell  was  the  pride  of  Cheyenne  and  its  Sunday 
concert  was  the  event  of  the  week.  Everything  on  wheels  moved 
to  the  fort  and  if  there  were  not  wheels  enough  to  carry  all  who 
wanted  to  go,  the  surplus  woiild  walk  out  over  the  hard,  sandy 
road  rather  than  miss  the  harmonies  that  floated  out  through  the 
bright,  clear  air. 

Cheyenne  afforded  my  first  glimpse  of  army  life,  and  Fort 
Russell  was  a  fair  post  to  compare  with  any  on  the  barren 
frontier.  In  the  first  place,  a  plains  fort  is  no  fort  at  all;  it  is 
simply  a  collection  of  houses  and  buildings  set  down  on  the 
prairie  or  on  the  crest  of  some  high  bluff,  with  no  bastions, 
walls,  stockade,  nor  defence  of  any  kind,  and  might  better  be 
termed  a  small  settlement  than  a  fort.  Select  a  fairly  level 
piece  of  ground,  say  400  yards  square;  on  two  sides  build  sub- 
stantial quarters  for  the  officers,  and  on  the  other  two  sides 
rows  of  barracks  for  the  enlisted  men.  Erect  stables,  guard- 
house, post-trader's  store,  a  club-room  for  officers,  another  for 
enlisted  men,  install  hospital  for  the  sick,  with  capable  doc- 
tors and  attentive  nurses,  a  bakery,  reading-room,  gymnasium, 
and  bathing-rooms,  and  the  picture  is  complete.  At  regimental 
quarters  a  good  band  was  always  stationed,  and,  once  or 
twice  a  week  there  were  hops  and  dances  for  both  officers  and 
enlisted  men.  At  the  post  exchange  light  wines,  beer,  and  cider 
were  sold  at  almost  cost  prices,  but  in  some  cases  no  whiskey  un- 
der any  pretence  was  allowed  for  sale  within  the  limits  of  a 
garrison.  In  the  billiard  rooms  a  nominal  charge  of  five  cents  a 
game  was  made,  the  receipts  merely  sufficing  to  pay  the  attend- 
ants and  keep  the  place  in  repair. 

Very  raw  material  is  taken  for  soldiers;  they  are  men 
of  all  nationalities  and  all  climes.     They  enter  the  army  as 


i6  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

bright  as  meteors  and  as  verdant  as  unripe  cucumbers,  but  no 
matter  how  ignorant  or  green  a  recruit  may  be  at  the  time  of 
joining,  he  usually  leaves  the  army  well  satisfied  with  his  five 
years  of  discipline  and  experience,  his  erect  figure  and  fine 
marksmanship.  The  bump  of  fun  is  exceedingly  large  in 
the  average  soldier  of  the  line.  Young  men  in  the  prime  of 
manhood  and  of  fine  physique  generally  look  on  the  term 
of  enlistment  as  a  sort  of  lark,  and  propose  to  get  as  much 
amusement  and  fun  out  of  the  five  years  as  possible.  Their 
devices  and  tricks  for  getting  out  of  drill  and  other  duties 
are  as  varied  as  the  boys  themselves.  In  time  of  peace,  guard 
duty  is  about  the  hardest  service  in  the  army,  and  to  this 
the  soldier  is  eligible  one  day  in  every  six  or  seven.  Any 
man  in  any  company,  whenever  he  feels  so  inclined,  if  not  de- 
tailed on  some  duty,  can  amuse  himself  by  knocking  over  jack- 
rabbits,  bagging  sage  hens,  quail,  and  prairie  chickens  galore,  or 
missing  as  many  shots  as  he  wants  to.  Tours  of  detached  service 
are  simply  picnics,  and  no  man  would  stay  in  a  garrison  if  he  had 
half  a  chance  to  get  out  over  the  prairie  for  service  of  any 
kind.  But  with  all  the.  cleverness  at  entertaining  themselves  and 
having  jocular  sports  about  the  fort,  the  life  is  a  tedious  one, 
and  to  an  ambitious  man  it  becomes  almost  intolerable.  The 
call  to  arms  is  hailed  with  joy,  not  because  it  means  war,  but 
because  it  means  action  and  a  change  of  scene  and  events. 

The  light  air  of  the  mountain  country  makes  people  ener- 
getic and  full  of  vim,  and  the  climatic  influence  is  especially 
noted  in  school  children  where  every  eye  gleams  in  a  nervous 
tension  unknown  in  lower  or  southern  climes.  Sometimes  it 
may  tend  to  make  children  too  precocious  as  was  the  case  dur- 
ing one  of  President  Harriman's  more  recent  visits  to  Cheyenne, 
when  Frank  Jones,  the  young  son  of  Chief  Clerk  D.  A.  Jones,  of 
the  Master  Mechanic's  ofhce,  was  sent  to  the  private  car  with  a 
telegram  for  Superintendent  McKeen.  Pushing  his  way  into 
the  private  car  of  President  Harriman,  the  lad  said:  "Hello: 
I  got  er  telegram  for  McKeen."  "You  mean  Mr.  McKeen," 
interposed  Mr.  Harriman.  "Yep,  I  guess  so;  th'  head  cheese 
'f  th'  motive  department."  Mr.  Harriman  smiled  and  took 
the  telegram  and  had  it  sent  to  Mr.  McKeen.  "What  do  you 
do,"  he  asked  the  lad.  "I  'm  one  'f  the  directors  'f  th'  Union 
Pacific."     "What?"  exclaimed  Mr.  Harriman.     "Yep,  I  direct 


Cheyenne  17 

envelopes  over  t'  th*  Master  Mechanic's  office,"  was  the  laconic 
reply  as  the  lad  left  the  car.  He  left  Mr.  Harriman  and  the 
other  magnates  in  an  uproar  and  the  joke  no  doubt  followed 
Mr.  Harriman  for  some  time. 

There  were  many  idlers  in  Cheyenne  in  spite  of  the  life- 
giving  air,  but  I  never  saw  them  stand  in  knots  and  make  re- 
marks about  passing  ladies.  If  a  woman  chanced  to  pass  a 
saloon  where  a  lot  of  men  were  lolling  about  the  entrance,  she 
could  pass  quietly  along  without  hesitation  for  every  man  of 
them  would  be  out  of  sight  before  she  reached  them.  I  saw  that 
happen  so  often  from  the  windows  of  the  hotel  that  I  knew  it 
was  not  simply  a  chance  circumstance,  and  that  ladies  were 
shown  a  deference  by  those  outcasts  of  society  that  proved  them 
not  lost  beyond  recall  if  the  right  influences  were  used.  Social 
conditions  of  the  West  were  entirely  new  to  me  and  it  required 
time  to  adjust  myself  to  the  more  democratic  gentility  which 
is  the  outcome  of  a  concourse  of  pioneers. 

It  was  a  difficult  matter  up  to  1877  to  draw  social  lines  in 
Cheyenne,  but  in  every  growing  town  there  comes  a  time  when 
its  four  hundred  will  draw  the  reins  of  exclusiveness.  That  four 
hundred  is  generally  considered  the  upper  tendom,  but  there 
are  places  where  the  lower  tendom  will  swarm  away  from  their 
betters,  leaving  it  an  easy  matter  for  the  others  to  draw  the 
social  lines  as  tight  as  they  please.  In  the  early  days  the  bad 
elements  of  Cheyenne  were  so  large  and  unsavory  that  they  clung 
together  and  poured  out  their  disapproval  of  a  higher  life  in  no 
unmistakable  terms.  But  those  in  the  better  way  conquered 
and  in  '']']  the  social  status  was  no  longer  quivering  in  the 
balance,  but  was  governed  by  such  as  our  now  noted  United 
States  Senator,  Chas.  E.  Warren,  the  Hon.  E.  A.  Slack,  Judge 
(later  United  States  Senator)  J.  M.  Cary,  Luke  Voorhees,  and 
others  who  have  risen  to  prominent  places  in  the  affairs  of  our 
nation  and  who  were  educated  up  to  their  great  usefulness  right 
on  the  windy  plains  of  Cheyenne. 

Cheyenne  and  Wyoming  were  little  less  known  for  the 
strength  of  character  and  cultivation  of  their  ladies  than  for 
their  notable  men.  It  was  no  wonder  that  Mr.  Slack,  editor  of 
the  Cheyenne  Sun^  was  such  a  gloriously  fine  man,  for  he  had  a 
mother  who  was  an  honor  to  our  country. 

She  was  Mrs.  Esther  Morris,  born  in  18 14,  at  Spencer,  Tioga 


1 8  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

County,  New  York;  her  grandfather,  Daniel  McQuigg  served  as 
captain  under  General  Sullivan  in  his  expedition  that  drove  the 
Indians  out  of  western  New  York.  He  was  one  of  the  first  twelve 
settlers  in  Tioga  County.  Esther  was  left  an  orphan  at  the  early 
age  of  eleven  years,  and  she  was  ever  a  warm  advocate  of  right. 
She  took  a  stand  for  justice  at  an  Abolitionist  meeting  held  one 
night  in  the  Baptist  Church  of  her  native  town,  when  she  was 
but  twenty  years  old.  So  incensed  were  the  pro-slavery  advo- 
cates of  the  community  that  a  prominent  citizen  declared  that 
if  the  ladies  would  leave  the  church  the  men  would  tear  it  down. 
Esther  stood  up  in  her  seat  and  said:  "This  church  belongs  to 
the  Baptist  people,  and  no  one  has  a  right  to  destroy  it.  If  it  is 
proposed  to  burn  it  down,  I  will  stay  right  here  and  see  who 
does  it." 

She  married  Artemus  Slack  at  the  age  of  twenty-eight,  after 
she  had  made  a  comfortable  fortune  for  herself  in  a  commercial 
enterprise.  Mr.  Slack  was  then  engaged  in  the  construction  of 
the  Erie  Railway,  but  when  he  died  several  years  later  he  was 
one  of  the  chief  engineers  of  the  Illinois  Central  and  left  her  a 
large  grant  of  land  along  that  line. 

In  1845  Esther  Slack  was  married  to  John  Morris  01  Peru, 
Illinois,  but  it  was  while  settling  the  Slack  estate  that  she 
realized  the  great  injustice  of  the  property  laws  in  their  rela- 
tion to  women,  and  she  resolved  to  devote  her  life  to  the  better- 
ment of  such  conditions. 

In  1869  she  joined  her  husband  again  at  South  Pass,  Wy- 
oming, and  it  was  there  she  was  made  the  first  woman  Justice 
of  the  Peace  in  the  United  States,  if  not  in  the  world.  Mr. 
Morris  objected  to  her  acceptance  of  the  office  and  made  a 
scene  in  the  court-room  and  she  fined  him  for  contempt  which 
he  refused  to  pay.  Then  she  promptly  sent  him  to  jail.  It 
was  a  good  illustration  of  her  determination  of  character. 

She  tried  more  than  fifty  cases  and  never  had  a  ruling  re- 
versed on  an  appeal.  Her  court  was  world  famous  and  from 
her  success  there  she  took  up  the  work  of  Woman's  Suffrage  and 
carried  it  to  a  successful  completion  in  Wyoming. 

When  I  knew  her  best  she  was  more  than  fifty  years  old,  but 
young  in  heart,  and  her  powers  of  conversation  though  blunt 
and  often  cutting,  would  have  given  her  a  conspicuous  position 
anywhere.     The  charm  of  her  personality  was  in  her  cheerful 


Cheyenne 


19 


disposition  under  all  conditions.  It  was  as  natural  for  her  to 
look  on  the  bright  side  of  things  as  it  is  for  the  flower  to  turn  to 
the  sun  that  gives  it  warmth  and  life,  and  her  faith  in  the  eternal 
goodness  of  God  made  her  old  age  one  of  joy  and  cheerfulness. 
Those  in  trouble  always  found  in  her  a  kind  friend  and  wise 
counsellor. 

Another  Cheyenne  debutante  was  Miss  Estelle  Reel.  She 
was  a  teacher  in  the  school  there  and  we  became  warm  friends. 
She  has  developed  into  a  sphere  of  usefulness  attained  by  few. 
She  went  to  Wyoming  for  her  health  after  her  education  was 


Miss  Reel's  savage  wards 


completed,  and  as  she  became  well  and  strong  again  she  took 
up  educational  work  and  passed  from  teacher  to  county  and 
State  Superintendent.  She  became  very  much  interested  in 
the  leasing  and  disposition  of  the  State  school  lands,  with  the 
object  of  securing  a  good  school  fund,  the  result  of  which  was 
that  the  State  has  now  a  satisfactory  school  fund  and  the  best 
system  of  schools  possible.  She  made  her  trips  throughout 
the  Territory  by  stage  or  on  horseback,  and  often  crossed  long 
stretches  of  the  lonely  prairies  alone. 

Her  successor  as  State  Superintendent  was  a  man.     "Why 


20  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

did  you  not  select  a  woman?"  she  asked  of  the  political  leaders. 
"Well,  this  man  is  the  father  of  eleven  children,"  was  the  reply, 
"and  we  concluded  a  man  who  is  doing  so  much  for  the  State 
is  entitled  to  as  much  consideration  as  a  woman  who  seems 
determined  to  remain  an  old  maid."  Miss  Iteel  laughed 
merrily  and  told  her  political  friends  that  she  had  no  desire 
to  compete  with  the  man  who  had  eleven  children. 

Miss  Reel  has  been  for  many  years  the  Government  Super- 
intendent of  Indian  Schools  for  the  United  States,  and  she  is 
thoroughly  absorbed  and  interested  in  her  work.  The  Indians 
call  her  the  "Big  White  Squaw  from  Washington";  they  love 
and  adore  her  in  the  true  Indian  way  of  wanting  to  give  her 
their  children. 

Even  Pard  had  a  political  bee  buzzing  in  his  bonnet  when 
we  were  married,  and  he  had  been  assured  of  the  Territorial 
Secretaryship  of  Wyoming  if  he  wanted  it.  The  incumbent  of 
the  office  was  then  a  Mr.  Morgan  who,  with  his  wife,  were 
almost  our  first  callers,  and  I  cannot  forget  how  unhappy  I 
felt  all  the  time  they  were  in  the  house  to  think  that  we  were 
being  urged  to  usurp  the  places  of  such  charming  people  as  they 
were,  and  it  gave  us  both  a  distaste  for  politics  that  we  have 
never  rallied  from,  and  within  a  few  months  from  that  time  when 
the  bubble  was  about  to  burst  upon  the  people  Pard  resigned 
all  claims  to  the  office  and  decided  to  remain  with  Jay  Gould's 
interests  and  take  up  the  line  of  work  as  it  had  been  outlined 
at  the  Union  Pacific  headquarters  in  Omaha.  That  meant  the 
penetrating  into  all  the  unwritten  lands  of  our  great  West  and 
Northwest  and  dipping  a  pen  into  every  interest  that  could  be 
made  a  feeder  for  the  great  railway  system.  How  much  of  the 
vast  influx  of  settlers  has  been  due  to  Pard's  facile  pen  and  un- 
tiring energies  none  may  ever  know,  but  we  have  watched  the 
flow  of  immigration  until  it  has  become  a  tidal  wave  of  humanity 
sweeping  over  the  broad  western  domains  and  obliterating  every 
vestige  of  the  pioneer  trails.  The  trip  from  Ogden  to  Helena 
and  on  up  to  British  Columbia  in  an  automobile  or  by  steam 
car  is  a  lark  nowadays,  and  so  it  is  all  over  the  land  where  the 
creaking,  lumbering  old  stage-coach  rattled  along  the  rutty, 
rough  highways  in  the  '70's  and  '8o's  of  the  nineteenth  century. 
We  had  many  misgivings  about  the  success  of  so  vast  an 
undertaking  and  though  we  never  discussed  failure  we  planned 


Cheyenne  21 

constantly  for  steps  of  progress  and  were  always  met  with 
joy  and  compliments  whenever  we  entered  the  home  office  at 
Omaha.  The  company  soon  considered  me  such  an  insepa- 
rable and  indivisible  part  of  Pard  that  they  never  made  out  any 
transportation  for  him  that  its  counterpart  was  not  made  out 
for  me  whether  on  their  own  road  or  requested  of  another. 

Circumstances  often  compelled  us  to  make  trips  separately, 
but  we  generally  met  on  the  road  somewhere.  I  well  remember 
a  trip  west  after  our  first  Christmas  back  in  Illinois  in  '"j"].  It 
was  in  the  dead  of  winter  and  Pard  had  gone  ahead  to  make 
a  quick  trip  to  Salt  Lake.  I  was  anxious  to  reach  Denver  at 
the  same  time  that  he  returned  there,  and  to  do  so  I  had  to 
battle  against  the  home  people  for  starting  out  when  the  whole 
western  country  was  snowbound.  One  old  northwestern  con- 
ductor, J.  J.  Donnelly,  swore  most  vociferously  that  I  "would 
never  get  through  in  God's  world,"  and  when  it  was  too  late  I 
began  to  feel  repentant  for  my  wilfulness  and  to  think  that  the 
wishes  of  others  should  have  been  given  precedence.  The  cars 
of  the  train  leaving  Chicago  were  miserable  shells;  either  the 
good  cars  were  stalled  in  snowdrifts  or  the  railway  company 
did  not  want  to  send  them  out,  and  I  was  the  only  woman  on  the 
train.  We  were  twenty-four  hours  going  sixty-five  miles  and 
butted  snowdrifts  all  the  way.  The  second  day  out  the 
weather  mellowed  and  rain  began  to  fall,  then  a  freight  wreck 
delayed  us  some  six  hours  and  we  had  to  transfer  to  another 
train  sent  to  our  relief.  The  change  was  made  by  walking 
along  the  track  through  the  wreckage  of  freight  cars  and  wad- 
ing ankle  deep  and  more  in  slush,  and  before  Omaha  was  finally 
reached  I  was  in  the  fourth  car,  having  changed  for  a  worse  one 
every  time,  until  there  was  not  only  no  sleeper,  but  only  one 
passenger  coach  on  the  train. 

From  Omaha  west  we  started  out  on  the  Union  Pacific 
train  well  equipped  again,  and  with  many  belated  passengers, 
but  at  Ogallala  the  train  was  held  forty-eight  hours  by  floods  and 
one  thousand  feet  of  track  that  had  been  washed  out  had  to  be 
rebuilt.  The  town  swarmed  with  cowboys  and  renegade  gangs 
of  bandits  who  laid  a  plot  to  hold  up  our  train  at  a  station  just 
west  of  Ogallala.  The  telegraph  operator  at  that  station  was 
A.  G.  Smith,  now  the  secretary  of  the  North  Coast  Railroad 
Company;  he  was  bound  and  locked  in  a  small  side  room  in 


22  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  station,  but  as  he  often  slept  in  that  little  room  he  had 
fitted  up  and  connected  a  little  battery  so  that  he  could  send  out 
a  message  at  night  from  there  if  he  so  desired,  for  he  was  always 
anticipating  just  such  an  experience.  When  our  train  was  ready 
to  go  on  west  it  was  a  combination  of  several  trains  and  the 
bandits  hoped  for  a  rich  haul,  but  the  imprisoned  operator 
worked  one  hand  loose  and  got  a  message  into  Ogallala  just 
before  our  train  pulled  out,  and  in  spite  of  the  signal  to  stop, 


"  The  bandits  hoped  for  a  rich  haul " 


our  train  flew  past  the  greatly  incensed  hold-up  band.  Then 
they  heard  a  second  section  coming  not  four  minutes  behind  us 
and  when  the  whistle  blew  for  the  station  the  robbers  were  in  a 
state  of  great  anticipation,  but  unfortunately  for  them  the 
second  train  contained  the  sheriff  and  a  posse  of  deputies  who 
captured  several  of  the  bandits  whom  the  court  sentenced  to 
many  years'  imprisonment. 

I  was  heartily  glad  to  reach  Denver  after  my  week  on  the 
road,  but  I  soon  learned  that  Pard  had  also  been  delayed  and 
he  wired  me  to  come  on  to  Laramie  in  Wyoming.  I  arrived 
there  in  the  evening  and  he  was  to  reach  there  early  the  next 
morning.  It  was  a  bitter  cold  night  and  I  was  glad  to  be  off  the 
train  and  have  a  good  warm  room,  but  when  I  was  ready  to 


Cheyenne  23 

retire  I  noticed  for  the  first  time  that  the  room  was  lighted  with 
electricity,  and  how  I  was  to  get  rid  of  that  light  and  have  it 
again  in  the  morning  was  a  problem  that  set  me  guessing,  for  as' 
yet  our  city  hotels  were  not  so  fortunate  as  to  have  electric 
lights.  I  hunted  all  around  the  room  for  some  instructions  but 
found  none.  There  was  but  one  large  lamp  and  it  hung  by  the 
bed  so  I  had  none  to  experiment  with  and  I  looked  long  and 
lovingly  at  the  projecting  flat  button  above  the  glass  bulb  won- 
dering what  it  might  do  to  me  or  to  the  light  if  I  tried  to  turn 
it,  and  I  wished  it  would  talk.  Finally,  after  locating  the 
call  button  for  the  office  in  case  I  should  need  help,  I  nerved 
myself  up  to  an  experiment,  and  the  joy  that  it  gave  me  to  see 
the  light  come  and  go  was  supreme.  I  tried  it  many  times 
during  the  night,  and  when  the  morning  call  came  for  me  to  get 
up  for  Pard's  early  train  I  turned  on  the  light  again  with  the 
joyousness  of  a  child,  and  thought  how  strange  it  was  that  my 
first  experience  with  those  lights  should  be  in  a  place  that  East- 
ern people  considered  as  out  of  God's  jurisdiction,  so  far  away 
did  the  Laramie  Plains  seem  to  people  using  oil  or  gas.  Later 
electric  lights  illuminated  nearly  every  small  town,  not  only 
streets  and  stores,  but  the  homes  long  before  Eastern  homes  had 
the  luxury. 

Once  in  New  York  a  friend  asked  if  it  did  not  seem  good 
to  get  back  to  a  city  having  the  luxury  of  gas,  and  when  I 
said  the  electric  light  was  a  little  strong  sometimes  but  that  it 
was  preferable  to  gas  he  looked  as  if  I  had  lost  my  reason  or  had 
no  regard  for  the  truth.  He  had  been  West!  Oh,  yes,  he  had 
been  as  far  west  as  Buffalo,  but  there  were  no  towns  in  New 
York  lighted  by  electricity  and  he  did  not  enjoy  my  expressed 
sympathy  for  users  of  gas  who  had  travelled  so  little.  In  later 
years,  after  his  mind  opened  up  to  the  advantages  of  the  great 
West  he  often  referred  to  that  moment  of  humiliation  for  him- 
self when  he  thought  I  needed  pity  and  sympathy  for  living 
outside  of  New  York,  and  had  the  tables  turned  on  himself. 

Laramie  was  then  the  home  of  Bill  Nye.  He  edited  the 
Laramie  Boomerangs  which  brought  him  into  prominence  as  a 
humorist.  Bill  Nye  was  a  funny  man  with  his  pen,  but  not 
with  his  tongue,  and  it  was  seldom  he  could  give  quick,  bright 
repartee  in  speech.  Once  in  his  home  town  his  wit  did  come  in 
a  sudden  flash  on  an  occasion  when  he  went  into  a  bar  for  his 


24  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

favorite  beverage.  As  he  put  his  foot  up  on  the  rail  and  leaned 
over  the  mahogany,  a  stalwart  stranger  gave  him  a  shove  that 
aroused  the  funny  man's  ire.  Turning  about  and  indignantly 
scoring  the  great  bulk  of  humanity  beside  him,  he  said  he  would 
give  him  just  two  minutes  in  which  to  apologize.  The  great 
six-footer  eyed  Mr.  Nye's  diminutive  form  from  his  bald  head 
down  to  his  shiny  boots  and  back  again,  taking  nearly  the  limit 
of  his  time  in  the  scrutiny.  Then,  without  a  gesture  or  smile, 
he  simply  said,  "I  apologize"  and  walked  out.  The  manipu- 
lator of  cocktails  let  go  his  breath  with  a  noisy  "phew!"  as  he 
asked  Nye  if  he  knew  who  that  man  was.  Mr.  Nye  replied 
that  he  did  not  and  didn't  care  as  he  had  apologized.  The 
man  behind  the  bar  was  so  excited  he  could  scarcely  articulate, 
but  he  bawled  out:  "Why — why — why,  that  man  is  John  L. 
Sullivan ;  now  what  would  you  have  done  if  he  had  not  apolo- 
gized? I  say,  what  would  you  have  done?"  "Well,"  said 
Nye,  as  his  eyes  widened  with  the  thoughts  of  his  miraculous 
escape,  "I  would  have  extended  his  time!" 

Before  the  railroad  was  finished  there  was  a  tri- weekly  stage 
between  Cheyenne  and  Denver,  which  were  rival  cities  for 
many  years,  but  the  location  of  Denver  gave  it  every  advantage 
as  an  outfitting  point  for  miners,  or  as  headquarters  for  tourists 
for  scenic  delights  and  its  climate  was  ideal.  Two  or  three 
rail  routes  have  been  built  between  the  cities  hoping  for  a  closer 
relationship  but  the  topography  of  the  country  made  rail- 
road building  difficult  and  unsatisfactory,  and  two  of  the  roads 
have  alternately  been  rebuilt  and  blended  until  the  Denver 
Pacific  and  Colorado  Central  have  each  lost  their  original  lines. 
The  only  rail  route  from  Omaha  to  Denver  was  through  Chey- 
enne until  the  Julesberg  cut-off  was  built  which  is  now  called 
the  Denver  Short  Line  from  Omaha.  Denver  people  also  had 
to  go  through  Cheyenne  to  reach  Ogden  just  as  they  do  now, 
and  there  seems  to  be  no  better  way  of  surmounting  the  Rockies 
than  the  route  through  the  Laramie  Plains. 

There  were  but  few  times  in  our  years  of  pioneering  that 
we  did  not  live  at  hotels  and  the  few  exceptions  developed  some 
peculiar  conditions.  We  felt  especially  favored  at  one  time  by 
being  offered  some  charming  rooms  and  board  in  one  of  the 
most  aristocratic  families  of  the  place,  where  we  could  go  and 
come  at  will,  and  the  condition  was  charming  for  it  would  be 


Cheyenne  25 

like  going  home  after  an  arduous  journey.  On  our  first  re- 
turn, however,  there  was  an  extra  fine  pair  of  blankets,  a  wed- 
ding present,  missing  from  our  bed.  It  was  a  pair  that  had  been 
accidentally  left  out  when  our  goods  were  stored  away  and  they 
seemed  safest  to  be  in  use.  The  bedroom  in  our  absence  was 
used  as  a  spare  room  for  guests,  and  when  I  inquired  about  the 
blankets  no  one  knew  anything  about  them.  I  asked  who  had 
occupied  the  room,  and  was  told  that  one  guest  was  a  Baptist 
minister  from  Laramie  and  another  was  the  president  of  the 
State  College  of  Colorado  at  Boulder.  We  knew  both  parties 
well,  and  they  were  so  far  above  suspicion  that  it  made  the 
joke  on  them  a  laughable  one,  but  we  never  found  the  blankets 
and  we  soon  after  learned  that  one  member  of  the  family  was  a 
noted  kleptomaniac  who  did  many  curious  things.  On  one 
occasion  she  took  out  her  false  teeth,  dressed  in  a  disguise,  and 
went  about  town  begging  flowers  from  those  who  were  fortunate 
enough  to  have  blooming  house  plants.  Her  excuse  was  a 
sick  loved  one  who  was  passionately  fond  of  flowers,  and  al- 
though she  was  recognized  by  two  or  three  they  said  nothing 
to  betray  her,  but  gave  her  the  flowers  in  pity  for  her  own 
weakness.  On  one  occasion  she  arranged  the  flowers  very  taste- 
fully and  sent  them  to  a  funeral  with  the  request  that  they 
be  left  on  the  grave.  After  the  ceremony  was  over  and  the 
cemetery  was  lacking  in  visitors  she  brought  the  flower  piece 
home,  rearranged  it,  and  sent  it  that  same  night  as  a  wedding 
gift.  She  also  found  it  convenient  to  unpack  and  use  my  silver- 
ware and  other  wedding  presents,  and  to  give  away  my  gowns 
when  I  was  absent  and  then  we  decided  to  look  for  home 
comforts  elsewhere. 

There  was  one  place  in  Denver  where  the  landlady's  mother 
was  insane,  and  oftentimes  I  would  have  a  strange  feeling  of  a 
human  presence  when  I  believed  myself  to  be  alone,  and  would 
turn  about  to  find  the  crazed  creature  standing  grinning  behind 
me.  I  grew  more  afraid  of  her  every  day  and  finally  locked  my 
doors  every  time  I  entered  the  rooms.  After  that  I  would  often 
see  the  knob  quietly  turning  or  hear  a  little  click  at  the  lock 
as  she  was  stealthily  trying  to  enter.  It  was  a  beautiful  suite 
of  parlors  and  the  location  was  ideal,  but  they  were  no  com- 
pensation for  such  occult  companionship,  and  we  went  back 
to  the  Windsor  Hotel,  satisfied  to  remain  there  while  in  town. 


26  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

It  was  a  keynote  of  progress  to  see  every  new  hotel  in 
Denver  built  a  little  farther  uptown.  The  old  American 
House  down  on  Blake  Street  was  the  most  fashionable  hotel  in 
town  in  1877,  and  it  elicited  as  much  surprise  and  pleasure  as 
the  Brown  Palace  did  in  later  days.  The  Windsor,  the  St. 
James,  the  Albany,  Wentworth,  Glenarm,  and  others  out  to  the 
present  site  of  the  Brown  Palace  have  told  the  trend  of  pro- 
gress, and  there  are  but  few  people  now  who  remember  Blake 
and  Larimer  streets  as  the  principal  shopping  streets  of  the 
city. 

The  night  of  the  opening  of  the  Tabor  Grand  Opera  House 
was  an  event  in  Denver's  history  not  to  be  forgotten.  The  city 
celebrated  two  events  in  one,  for  the  first  passenger  train  on  the 
Denver  Short  Line  arrived  the  same  evening,  and  brought  in 
the  Nebraska  Press  Association.  Accompanied  by  a  party  of 
friends,  including  Mrs.  David  Kimball  of  Omaha,  I  made  that 
first  through  trip.  At  Julesberg  we  were  met  by  Pard  and 
John  Arkins  of  the  Rocky  Mountain  News  and  Tom  Dawson 
of  the  Denver  Times.  Since  that  time  Mr.  Dawson  has  been 
Senator  Teller's  private  secretary  in  Washington  and  is  now 
the  head  of  the  Associated  Press  which  sends  out  all  the 
Washington  Congressional  dispatches. 

The  members  of  the  Nebraska  contingent  included  Fred 
Nye  and  Mr.  Woodbridge  of  the  Omaha  Republican.  Mr.  Nye 
was  very  short  and  Mr.  Woodbridge  was  very  long,  so  one  said 
he  brought  the  other  along  for  use  as  a  fire  escape.  The  entire 
party  occupied  boxes  in  the  new  theatre  and  the  curtain  raising 
was  delayed  an  hour  for  the  belated  new  train  to  arrive,  and  the 
city  guests  to  get  their  dinner,  for  all  trains  then  stopped  for 
meals  or  waited  for  the  end  of  a  run. 


CHAPTER  III 

BLACK  HAWK  AND  CENTRAL— GEORGETOWN 
AND  GRAY'S  PEAK 


T  was  past 
the  middle 
of  Novem- 
ber when 
we  left 
Denver  on 
a  bright 
Sunday- 
morning 
to  enjoy 
the  glories 
of  Clear 
Creek  Canyon  and  to  penetrate  the  mysteries  of  the  Black  Hawk 
mines.  I  felt  especially  interested  in  this  trip  because  it  was 
there  and  at  Central  City  in  1871  that  Pard  had  worked  at  the 
printer's  case  so  arduously,  and  made  a  record  far  beyond 
his  co-workers  in  the  number  of  "ems"  he  could  correctly  set 
up  in  a  given  time,  always  working  early  and  late  that  he  might 
supply  his  invalid  father  with  help  for  family  needs. 

The  wonders  of  Clear  Creek  Canyon  are  not  so  unknown  to 
the  world  now,  and  do  not  need  minute  description.  The 
narrow-gauge  rail  line  was  considered  a  most  wonderful  achieve- 
ment in  engineering,  with  its  towering  cliffs  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  torrents  of  rushing  waters  on  the  other.  We  crossed  and  re- 
crossed  the  rocky  gorge,  reviewing  the  frowning  cliffs  and  foamy 
depths,  gaining  a  glimpse  of  our  engine  as  we  rounded  some 
sharp  curve,  or  rolled  under  a  projecting  shelf  that  threatened 
to  fall  upon  the  baby  train.  On  and  up  we  went,  wrapped  in  a 
halo  of  sublimity,  en  rapport  with  the  grandeur  of  nature's 
arts,  and  dumb  with  admiration  and  reverence.  What  halcyon 
days  those  were,  with  all  the  vigor  and  enthusiasm  of  youth  to 
summon  to  the  appreciation  and  praises  of  such  exciting  travel. 

27 


28  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

In  the  party  for  that  day  was  a  retired  banker  from  Boston, 
a  man  genial  and  companionable,  who  entered  into  the  spirit  of 
enjoyment  with  great  zest,  but  he  amazed  everybody  by  asking 
if  we  were  west  of  Omaha.  When  he  saw  the  consternation  de- 
picted on  the  several  faces,  he  said  he  really  did  not  know  where 
he  was,  that  he  had  bought  a  round- trip  ticket  to  the  Coast 
including  several  intermediate  trips,  but  he  did  not  know  how 
far  he  was  along  although  he  had  spent  several  days  in  Denver. 

Our  train  was  carrying  a  "Pinafore"  company  up  to  the 


In  Clear  Creek  Canyon,  Colorado 

mountain  towns  that  morning,  and  as  it  was  waiting  at  the 
forks  of  Clear  Creek  for  the  down  express  we  heard  an  alterca- 
tion between  a  man  and  his  wife  belonging  to  the  company 
which  suddenly  culminated  in  the  man  rushing  from  the  car 
saying  "Good-bye";  he  sprang  to  the  platform,  and,  before 
any  one  realized  his  intent  he  stepped  up  on  to  the  framework 
of  the  bridge  and  jumped  into  the  creek.  The  water  was  very 
high  and  the  current  running  with  a  fall  of  a  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  to  the  mile.  He  made  frantic  efforts  to  save  himself,  but 
to  no  avail,  and  even  his  body  could  not  be  recovered.  It  was 
a  great  shock  to  the  company  with  whom  he  was  a  general 
favorite  as  their  "  Dick  Dead  Eye."  It  seemed  impossible  that 
he  meant  to  do  more  than  frighten  his  wife,  for  he  was  such  a 


Black  Hawk  and  Central 


29 


clever,  good-natured  man,  always  doing  something  to  entertain 
the  company.  The  distracted  (?)  wife  offered  $25  reward  for 
the  return  of  the  body  if  covered  with  the  new  suit  of  clothes 
which  he  wore  when  he  was  drowned. 

Ever  and  anon  dark  holes  in  the  mountainsides  would 
prove  the  love  of  man  for  gold,  and  his  untiring  efforts  to  draw 
out  the  very  vitals  of  our  mother-earth.  Mother  Grundy 
beamed  upon  us  as  we  whizzed  past,  while  the  donkey  pictured 
in  the  pinnacles  above  had  more  the  appearance  of  wishing 
himself  nearer  that  he  might  enjoy  his  hereditary  amusement 
of  landing  all  intruders  at  the  foot  of  the  hills.  The  "old 
frog"  seemed  ready  to  begin  his  evening  melody  as  soon  as  the 
shadows  lengthened,  but  he  looked  as  contented  as  though  he 
had  not  been  sitting  bolt  upright  on  his  stony  hind  legs  for  ages 
and  criticised  by  every  passing  man,  woman,  and  child. 

The  high,  towering  cliffs  were  as  grand  and  majestic  as 
though  the  storms  of  centuries  had  not  fought  and  striven  to 


Mother  Grundy,  Clear  Creek  Canyon,  Colorado 


30  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

crush  them  to  the  earth ;  and  who  can  tell  how  many  centuries 
they  may  yet  hold  their  mighty  sway  over  the  dark  shadows 
of  the  canyon  with  its  mass  of  human  habitants.  The  unruly 
waters  of  the  creek  went  rushing  and  seething  over  the  rocks  in 
their  wild  race  to  the  sea.  The  mountains,  the  pictured  rocks, 
and  the  roaring  waters  wove  around  us  such  a  spell  that  the 
cry  of  the  brakeman  for  Black  Hawk  seemed  like  a  sacrilegious 
intrusion  into  the  sanctum  of  our  deepest  and  purest  thoughts. 
But  the  spell  was  broken  and  we  descended  to  earth  to  find  our- 
selves still  of  the  earth  with  human  beings  round  about  us. 

When  we  made  the  first  trip  up  this  canyon  the  track  was 
laid  only  to  Black  Hawk.  While  the  Central  City  station  was 
only  a  mile  farther  up  the  gulch,  the  rail  line  had  to  circuit 
about  and  zigzag  for  four  miles  among  the  gold  mines  on  the 
mountainside  to  make  the  grade.  Workmen  were  busy  all 
along  the  distance  hurrying  the  work  to  completion. 

The  altitude  of  Central  City  is  8300  feet  above  sea-level  or 
nearly  twice  that  of  Denver.  There  was  no  hotel  in  Black 
Hawk,  but  at  Central  City  the  "Teller  House,"  built  by  our 
good  friend  Senator  Teller,  was  as  fine  as  any  country  hotel 
in  the  State.  Most  streets  of  Central  City  were  not  over  twenty 
feet  wide,  and  the  houses  looked  like  bird  cages  hung  on  hooks 
jutting  out  from  the  mountainsides.  Nearly  every  house  was 
reached  by  a  flight  of  stairs,  and  though  it  might  be  two  or  three 
stories  high  on  the  lower  side,  there  would  be  an  entrance  on  a 
level  with  the  top  floor  on  the  upper  side.  Pard  pointed  out 
one  rickety  building  where,  in  1871,  his  dextrous  fingers  picked 
type  out  of  the  case  at  the  rate  of  seven  dollars  per  day,  which 
amount,  however,  he  found  harder  to  collect  than  to  set  the  type. 
But  the  more  thrifty  looking  Central  City  Register  Office,  where 
Col.  Frank  Hall  did  the  newspaper  business  on  a  cash  basis, 
furnished  many  a  remittance  to  Pard's  sick  folks  at  home. 

The  Hill  Smelting  Works  were  then  in  this  canyon,  and 
covered  four  acres  of  ground.  Professor  Hill  (later  Colorado's 
United  States  Senator)  took  great  pride  in  explaining  the  re- 
markable twenty-seven  stages  of  treating  the  ore  before  it  was 
lumped  into  the  beautiful  stacks  of  bullion  piled  on  the  office 
floor.  Fifty-two  tons  of  ore  were  treated  daily  and  that  was 
considered  a  large  day's  turnout  at  that  time.  Fifty  cords  of 
wood  were  daily  consumed  in  smelting  the  fifty  tons  of   ore. 


Black  Hawk  and  Central 


31 


The  expense  of  running  the  smelter  was  on  an  average  of  five 
hundred  dollars  per  day. 

The  Bobtail  gold  mine  tunnel  was  in  the  western  part  of  the 
town.  With  lighted  torches  and  rubber  clothing  we  penetrated 
twenty-two  hundred  feet  into  the  secret  chest  of  mother-earth 
to  see  where  she  stored  her  wealth.  We  also  visited  other  mines 
and  scenic  places,  Pard  to  gather  his  statistics  of  productions,  and 


Tons  of  bullion  ready  for  the  mint 


I  to  study  the  people  and  the  social  ways,  and  both  to  marvel  at 
the  wondrous  handiwork  of  our  great  Creator. 

Next  morning  by  half -past  seven  o'clock  we  were  on  our  way 
through  Virginia  Canyon  to  Idaho  Springs,  a  distance  of  only 
seven  miles,  but  wonderful  in  its  scenic  grandeur.  It  was  over 
this  route  that  the  stage  drivers  made  some  memorable  records 
on  the  last  four  miles,  sometimes  making  that  distance  in  twelve 
minutes.  General  Grant  and  his  daughter  Nellie  were  put 
through  at  a  four- minute  gait,  and  when  the  General  protested 
against  such  speed  the  driver  coolly  said  his  own  neck  was  as 
dear  as  anybody's  and  the  General  need  not  worry. 


32  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

It  was  here  also  that  Horace  Greeley  paid  an  extra  fare 
to  be  taken  to  Idaho  Springs  in  time  to  catch  a  train  to  Denver. 
There  had  been  a  cloudburst  down  the  north  fork  and  it  had 
washed  out  the  track  below  Black  Hawk,  and  the  great  Horace 
had  an  appointment  to  meet  and  he  needed  speed.  Driving 
like  a  madman  down  the  steep  grade  was  too  much,  however, 
for  Mr.  Greeley;  he  tried  to  call  the  driver  down,  while  striv- 
ing also  to  hold  himself  on  the  coach,  but  the  man  with  the  rib- 
bons called  to  him:  "Keep  your  seat  Horace,  you  will  be 
there  in  time.     You  won't  have  to  walk." 

The  wind  blew  a  gale,  but  over  one  mountain  and  another 
we  sped  along,  passing  Old  Chief,  Squaw,  and  Papoose  moun- 
tains, swinging  the  curves  and  corners  of  the  road,  glanc- 
ing nervously  at  the  depths  and  heights  and  wishing  we  might 
moderate  the  pace  as  earnestly  as  Horace  Greeley  or  General 
Grant  could  have  done,  yet  with  no  more  influence  over  the 
Jehu  than  the  squirrels  of  the  woods  chirping  their  incense  at 
human  intrusion. 

About  midway  of  the  canyon  lived  a  peculiar  hermit,  in 
an  old  log  cabin,  and  the  man's  possessions  were  chiefly  his 
dog  and  horse.  The  queer  old  man  would  find  a  mine  and  sell 
it  for  some  price,  then  get  drunk  and  stay  drunk  while  the  money 
lasted.  When  he  started  off  on  his  spree  he  turned  his  horse 
and  dog  loose  on  the  hills  to  care  for  themselves.  The  dog 
would  follow  the  horse  all  day  and  drive  it  to  the  barn  at 
night,  watch  by  the  door  until  morning,  when  they  would  both 
start  out  together  again.  We  saw  the  horse  feeding  on  the 
mountain  grass  and  his  faithful  attendant  lying  a  few  feet  away, 
waiting  for  the  master's  return.  No  one  could  learn  what  the 
dog  subsisted  on,  for  he  never  left  his  duty  to  forage. 

The  trip  through  that  famous  canyon  was  one  we  had 
the  privilege  of  paying  well  for,  and  we  had  our  money's 
worth,  if  we  were  glad  when  it  ended  and  were  safe  once  more  at 
the  Beebe  House  of  Idaho  Springs.  We  hurriedly  wended  our 
way  to  the  hot  springs  for  a  plunge,  but  when  we  learned  that 
the  "Omaha  Board  of  Trade"  had  just  been  cleansed  we  turned 
our  faces  to  a  dip  of  less  proportions. 

On  another  trip  in  summer  we  made  the  ride  over  to  Bear 
Creek  which  was  full  of  romance  and  grandeur.  A  gradual 
ascent  over  a  smooth  road  along  the  bank  of  Bear  Creek  was 


Black  Hawk  and  Central 


33 


a  joy  not  to  forget.  Wild  roses  bloomed  in  profusion,  sweet 
syringa,  wild  columbine,  daisies,  and  purple  flagg  grew  in 
confusion  along  the  rocks  and  hedges.  The  most  remarkable 
flower  to  me  was  that  of  the  soap  plant,  or  soapweed,  an  un- 


In  the  shadow  of  the  Chief,  the  Squaw,  and  Papoose  Mountains, 
the  horse  and  dog  awaited  the  master's  return 


romantic  name  given  it  because  of  the  soapy  quality  of  its  root. 
The  stalks  grew  about  twenty  inches  high,  and  many  had  fully 
forty  blossoms  on  a  stem  that  looked  like  so  many  water  lilies 
on  a  stalk.    These  weeds  were  very  plentiful  and  would  make  a 

3 


34  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

fine  showing  in  any  Eastern  collection  of  house  plants.  The 
leaves  of  the  plant  are  long  and  narrow,  with  very  sharp  points, 
and  are  used  extensively  in  the  manufacture  of  paper. 

The  only  defacement  in  this  canyon  was  a  frequent  sign 
warning  the  followers  of  Isaak  Walton  that  no  fishing  was  al- 
lowed. One  cunning  nimrod  made  himself  famous  by  ingen- 
iously reaching  the  head  waters  and  wading  down  the  bed  of 
the  creek.    A  wrathy  ranchman  discovered  the  young  man, 


"  He  lured  the  irate  landowner  into  a  deep  hole" 


clad  to  the  neck  in  rubber,  coolly  casting  his  fly  and  unmindful  of 
all  threats  that  the  irate  rancher  could  hurl  at  him.  At  last 
the  infuriated  owner  plunged  into  the  water  to  drag  out  the 
trespasser,  but  the  hook  and  line  man  only  went  into  deeper 
water,  and  continued  to  pull  up  the  speckled  beauties.  He  said 
he  came  with  the  water  from  the  mountain  top  and  had  a 
right  to  stay  with  it,  then  deftly  he  lured  the  irate  landowner 
into  a  deep  hole,  at  the  same  time  telling  him  that  when  he  was 
wet  enough  he  had  better  get  out  of  the  water.    It  was  a  most 


Black  Hawk  and  Central  35 

exasperating  condition  for  the  landowner  and  he  left  the  water 
and  the  river  vowing  vengeance  in  "blue  hot  air,"  as  he  went 
dripping  into  the  woods  toward  his  cabin. 

While  resting  on  the  hotel  veranda  at  Idaho  Springs  we 
were  given  a  striking  illustration  of  the  fine  discrimination  and 
disgust  for  intoxicated  men  by  the  mountaineer's  good  trans- 
portation ally,  the  shaggy  little  burro.  Half  a  dozen  little  boys 
and  girls  were  hanging  all  over  one  of  these  sturdy  animals  which 
was  apparently  a  village  pet.  He  seemed  to  immensely  enjoy 
their  fun  of  trying  to  cover  his  anatomy  at  all  points  from  his 
ears  to  his  tail,  and  would  cheerfully  and  safely  carry  all  such 
little  riders  as  could  cling  to  him  without  saddle  or  bridle.  A 
big  drunken  wretch  who  had  been  watching  the  fun  from  a  near- 
by groggery,  thinking  to  participate  staggered  up,  brushed  the 
children  aside,  and  threw  his  burly  frame  across  the  burro.  In 
an  instant  the  sleepy  little  fellow  was  wide  awake,  those  long 
ears  flew  back  to  the  horizontal,  the  man  was  thrown  and  kicked 
half-way  across  the  street,  and  with  mouth  wide  open  exposing 
a  wicked  set  of  teeth  the  insulted  animal  followed  up  his 
advantage  until  he  chased  his  victim  over  a  neighboring  fence. 

Georgetown,  a  few  miles  above  Idaho  Springs,  was  then  the 
heart  of  the  mining  section,  and  there  General  Marshall  pro- 
vided us  with  riding  horses,  and  with  his  son  for  a  guide  we 
made  the  climb  to  the  head  of  Clear  Creek,  where  the  waters 
were  indeed  as  clear  as  molten  crystal.  We  could  look  down 
on  the  "Silver  Queen,"  as  Georgetown  was  often  called,  with 
her  four  thousand  inhabitants,  where  she  made  a  mere  speck  in 
the  distant  valley.  We  visited  many  a  ' '  prospect ' '  and  ' '  salted ' ' 
mine,  but  the  point  of  greatest  interest  was  the  Colorado  Cen- 
tral mine.  At  a  depth  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  feet  we  took  a 
pick  and  hacked  out  pieces  of  silver  ore  from  a  vein  that  aver- 
aged $450  to  the  ton.  The  top  of  this  mine  was  at  an  elevation 
of  12,000  feet  above  the  sea-level,  and  it  was  entered  through  a 
tunnel  1360  feet  long  at  the  end  of  which  800  feet  of  mother- 
earth  hung  over  us.  The  tunnel  also  led  to  the  underground 
hall  where  was  held  one  of  the  grandest  and  most  unique  balls 
ever  given.  There  were  eight  rows  of  lights  extending  full 
length  of  the  tunnel,  and  the  silver  walls  were  draped  in  bunt- 
ing from  end  to  end.  The  ballroom,  thus  cut  out  of  the 
heart  of  the  mountain,  and  which  was  later  the  machinery  hall, 


36  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

was  a  blaze  of  light  and  beauty,  for  many  ladies  from  the  cap- 
ital city  and  other  towns  of  the  West  came  in  their  richest 
gowns  and  made  the  function  one  of  the  most  beautiful,  novel, 
and  weird  known  in  mining  history. 

To  one  reared  on  Illinois  prairies  the  wooded  hills  and 
timber  chutes  were  intensely  interesting.  Often  a  chute  is 
several  thousand  feet  long  that  the  timber  cut  on  the  mountain 
can  be  run  to  the  bottom  with  lightning  speed.     It  rains  every 


Pack  train  waiting  for  a  load 

day  in  and  above  Georgetown,  just  a  shower  about  noon. 
The  shower  was  as  sure  as  the  strike  of  a  clock  all  summer  long, 
and  its  great  regularity  rendered  irrigation  or  sprinkling  un- 
necessary to  crops  or  lawns.  One  man  along  our  way  had  a 
four-acre  patch  of  potatoes  which  netted  him  $2500  a  year. 
The  sun  shines  only  about  six  hours  for  the  longest  day  in 
Georgetown,  then  the  mountains  hide  it  and  there  is  only  a 
mellow  twilight  after  3  p.m. 

There  can  be  no  more  interesting  trips  in  Colorado  that  those 
to  Green  Lake  and  Gray's  Peak.  The  former  is  well  named 
the  "Gem  of  the  Mountains"  and  it  possesses  rare  charms  for 
all  lovers  of  the  beautiful.  It  is  but  two  miles  and  a  half  from 
Georgetown,  and  the  road  leading  thither  winds  around  in 
short  curves  up  the  mountainside  until,  at  a  glorious  vantage 
point  fifteen  hundred  feet  above  the  city,  one  catches  through 


Georgetown  and  Gray's  Peak 


37 


romantic  openings  in  the  forest  the  first  glimpse  of  the  lake. 
The  noise  of  the  village  is  no  longer  heard,  or  has  become  like 
sweet  music,  as  the  turmoil,  din,  and  rattle  of  a  busy  city 
blends  in  sweetest  harmony  to  the  aeronaut  as  he  rises  among 
the  clouds.  The  lake  is  only  half  a  mile  long  by  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  wide,  but  every  foot  of  its  surface  affords  interest  to  its 
visitors. 

With  a  good  boat,  one  could  paddle  about  in  the  water  as 
long  as  he  chose,  or  better  yet,  an  oarsman  would  go  along  and 
pleasantly  tell  the  romances  of  the  locality.  The  petrified 
forest  in  the  bottom  of  Green  Lake  is  no  myth,  although  it 
may  not  be  exactly 
what  scientists  call 
petrification.  The 
wood  has  reached 
that  stage  where  it 
is  very  hard  and  can 
only  be  chipped  by 
a  sharp  instrument. 
When  the  water  is 
calm  the  stubby  tree 
tops  can  be  distinctly 
seen  in  the  green 
deep. 

There  were  thou- 
sands of  fish  of  dif- 
ferent varieties  in  the 
lake,  and  other  thou- 
sands of  California  salmon  were  in  the  hatching  pond  near 
the  lake.  It  was  well  worth  the  trip  to  see  the  fish  at  feeding 
time.  Fishermen  were  charged  fifty  cents  per  fish  for  indulg- 
ing in  their  favorite  pastime  but  the  catch  would  be  broiled 
for  them  without  extra  charge.  Some  of  the  fish  were  said  to 
be  so  large  and  tame  that  they  had  been  trained  to  pull  boats 
around  the  lake. 

Two  hundred  feet  above  the  lake  on  the  farther  shore  is 
the  "Cave  of  the  Winds,"  a  weird  place  where  rocks  are 
piled  in  pyramidal  form,  the  point  of  which  is  called  "Prospect 
Rock,"  but  it  is  between  the  lower  ledges  where  the  wild  winds 
race  and  roar,  which  gives  the  place  its  name.      From  "Pros- 


The  beginning  of  a  gold  mine 


38  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

pect  Rock"  a  good  view  is  had  of  the  "Battle  ground  of  the 
Gods"  where  huge  boulders  were  thrown  about  and  piled  in 
direst  confusion  by  some  mighty  upheaval  of  nature  in  ages 
past.  Then  a  little  beyond  were  the  sunny  waters  of  Clear 
Lake,  whose  clear  liquid  depths  were  marvels  of  submarine 
beauty,  and  where  rests  the  head  of  the  tumbling  waters  we 
had  followed  up  through  rocky  canyons.  It  was  a  pity  that 
so  transparent  and  iridescent  in  its  own  dancing  aerie  it 
should  become  so  contaminated,  heavy,  and  poisonous  ere  it 
reached  the  valley  by  the  washes  from  the  mines  and  smelters 
intervening. 

To  visit  the  summit  of  the  universe  was  an  inspiration  not 
to  be  neglected  and  Gray's  Peak  with  its  altitude  of  14,341  feet 
was  then  supposed  to  be  the  nearest  point  to  heaven  that  one 
could  reach  on  horseback.  It  was  the  dome  of  our  continental 
divide,  and  its  electrical  summit  had  not  sufficient  terror  to 
deter  us  from  scaling  its  dizzy  heights.  From  Georgetown  the 
drive  was  a  charming  one.  The  carriage  was  luxurious  and  for 
ten  miles  along  the  beautiful  toll  road  to  the  Kelso  ranch  the 
receding  lowlands  spread  out  in  wondrous  glory  below  us.  Our 
carriage  was  well  loaded,  for  aside  from  having  four  people  in 
the  party  we  had  to  carry  our  saddles  for  the  ride  to  the  summit. 
We  spent  a  joyous  evening  at  the  ranch  before  a  huge  grate 
fire,  where  several  fine  dogs  surrounding  the  fireplace  made  a 
picture  of  comfort  that  any  artist  might  have  coveted. 

We  were  seated  in  our  saddles  at  the  first  streak  of  day 
for  an  early  climb  to  the  summit  to  watch  the  sun  chase  the 
shadows  from  the  earth  as  the  goddess  of  the  morning  started 
her  steeds  in  the  air.  Old  Sol  made  a  merry  chase  after  the 
smiling  Aurora,  but  they  were  both  lost  to  us  in  the  mazy 
depths  of  fleecy  clouds  before  the  noon  hour  had  passed. 

One  Mr.  Case,  the  Union  Pacific  ticket  agent  of  Idaho 
Springs,  and  my  sister  were  with  us  and  shared  some  peculiar 
phenomena  away  up  in  the  clouds  that  came  wondrously  near 
leaving  our  friend  Mr.  Case  on  the  summit,  and  gave  us  a 
scare  that  put  lightening  in  our  heels  to  get  down  from  our 
pedestal. 

Gray's  Peak  lifts  its  head  from  the  main  range  as  one  man 
of  genius  rises  above  common  humanity,  and  above  his  up- 
reaching  fellows  of  ambition  and  talent,  and  then  looks  back  at 


Georgetown  and  Gray's  Peak 


39 


his  less  prosperous  comrades  in  compassion  and  beckons  them 
Half   a  mile  above  Kelso's  ranch  a    couple  of    miners 


on. 


dodged  their  heads  out  of  the  ground  and  inquired  if  we  wanted 
a  guide,  but  there  was  no  need  of  their  services  with  such  a  good 
trail. 

Midway  to  the  top  we  were  enveloped  in  a  blinding  snow- 


The  top  of  Gray's  Peak 

storm  which  lasted  over  an  hour.  Then  ever  and  anon  a  storm 
would  break  over  us  or  go  around  just  below  us.  Slowly  we 
climbed  higher  and  higher  for  several  hours,  giving  the  horses 
a  rest  every  few  steps  as  we  neared  the  summit.  Up,  up,  up 
we  went,  riding  and  walking  by  turn,  until  weary  but  anxious 
we  seemed  to  find  ourselves  at  the  very  portal  of  eternity,  and  we 
were  rewarded  by  a  glimpse  of  grandeur  unexcelled.  Far, 
far  away  the  billowy  mountains  rolled,  robed  in  green  and 
gold,  and  pink  and  purple,  dotted  here  and  there  with  huge 
patches  of  snow,  and  anon  a  lakelet  glistening  in  the  sunlight. 
To  the  north  Long's  Peak  stood  out  bold  and  stern  above 
its  hoary  rivals.  Southward  Pike's  Peak  loomed  darkly  in  the 
sky,  and  on  still  beyond,  the  Spanish  Peaks  pointed  upward  in 


40  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

twinlike  grace,  while  away  to  the  southwest  the  "Mount  of 
the  Holy  Cross"  gleamed  in  virgin  purity  against  its  dark 
shadowy  setting  of  pines  and  weather-beaten  rocks.  In  the 
east  the  plains  stretching  beyond  the  slopes  melted  away  in 
the  far  distant  horizon.  It  was  our  "Angelus"  and  with 
wonder,  awe,  and  reverence  we  bowed  our  heads. 

Fourteen  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty-one  feet  above 


Copyright  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross 

the  tide  level,  up  where  the  sun  bestows  its  first  morning  kiss, 
and  where  it  lends  its  soft  halo  of  mellow  lights  until  it  passes 
to  the  world  on  the  other  side,  we  could  nearly  span  the  continent 
from  sea  to  sea  with  the  naked  eye.     What  a  sublime  pinnacle ! 

One  such  view  of  grandeur  can  afford  food  for  thought  and 
study  for  almost  a  lifetime.  One's  soul  is  thrown  in  such 
close  communion  with  nature  and  nature's  God  that  it  seems 
but  a  step  beyond  to  the  great  eternity. 

The  peak  was  covered  with  small,  flat  stones  from  base  to 


Georgetown  and  Gray's  Peak  41 

summit,  making  the  trail  a  shifting  one  and  affording  only 
a  loose  sliding  foothold.  Near  the  top  is  a  large  spring  where 
one  can  refresh  himself,  and  where  comfort  would  dictate  to 
spread  the  lunch,  unless  one  carries  timber  along  for  a  fire  on 
the  summit,  where  it  is  intensely  cold. 

The  clouds  were  full  of  freaks  that  drew  forth  loud  excla- 
mations of  wonder  and  surprise.  They  would  wind  their  snowy 
sheets  around  the  base  of  the  peak  and  intertwine  among  the 
lesser  hills,  then  rise  and  fall  full  of  rainbow  splendor.  At 
one  time  a  seeming  wall  reaching  thousands  of  feet  above  us 
and  extending  to  the  base  of  the  mountains  slowly  approached 
us.  It  seemed  that  nothing  could  save  us — that  we  must  be 
crowded  off  our  pedestal  and  dashed  on  the  rocks.  There  was 
no  break  in  the  moving  mass,  and  nearer  and  nearer  it  came. 
We  stood  in  terror  and  awe  of  what  might  happen,  yet  in  de- 
fiance we  awaited  its  approach,  until  with  all  the  gentleness 
of  a  mother's  arms  we  were  enveloped  in  a  sheet  of  blinding 
snow.  So  softly  it  fell,  so  still  was  the  air,  that  no  one  spoke, 
and  scarcely  had  our  senses  begun  to  shape  themselves  to 
earthly  things  again  than  the  clouds  rolled  on  in  their  great 
white  purity,  leaving  us  numb  with  fear  and  cold. 

The  little  cabin  on  the  summit  was  half  full  of  snow  and 
ice,  the  glass  in  the  windows  all  broken;  even  the  roof  had  long 
since  given  way  on  one  side  from  its  weight  of  snow,  and  its 
fallen  timbers  confined  the  clear  space  of  the  room  to  one 
corner.  We  clapped  our  hands,  we  danced,  and  jumped  about 
to  get  warm,  then  we  spread  our  lunch  which  we  had  brought 
with  us.  There  was  not  a  sliver  of  wood  to  make  the  least 
bit  of  a  fire,  but  we  drank  our  cold  coffee  and  ate  our  sandwiches 
with  a  relish  that  an  epicure  might  envy. 

Some  one  had  evidently  been  there  before  us,  and  not 
satisfied  with  leaving  his  name  and  address  on  a  stone  slab, 
he  added  a  further  identification  of  himself  in  the  statement 
that  he  was  the  "first  d fool  of  the  season." 

While  enjoying  the  novel  experience  of  our  surroundings 
we  suddenly  heard  a  crackling  in  one  corner  of  the  roof  that 
sounded  like  a  bunch  of  rattlesnakes.  Not  stopping  to  think 
that  snakes  could  not  live  in  that  altitude,  we  rushed  madly 
from  the  cabin,  looked  upon  the  roof,  and  around  the  ground  on 
the    new  fallen    snow,  but    saw  no    evidence  of    any  living 


42  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

thing.  The  men  looked  after  the  horses  to  see  if  they  were 
securely  tied  and  found  them  showing  great  evidences  of  fear. 
When  they  were  gently  patted  to  assure  them  of  their  safety, 
the  men  were  subjected  to  such  thrills  of  electric  currents 
that  they  were  nearly  struck  dumb.  One  declared  his  mus- 
tache assumed  life,  the  other  that  every  individual  hair  on 
his  head  stood  up  straight.  In  trying  to  point  to  the  location  of 
the  first  noise,  flames  flew  from  the  finger  tips,  and  every  pat  on 
a  horse's  body  would  bring  out  fire.  It  surely  was  an  elec- 
trical storm  that  we  had  not  been  advised  about,  and  there- 


Copyright  by  Asabel  Curtis,  Seattle 

Lost  to  the  world 

fore  knew  not  the  danger  we  were  in.  When  miners  realize  that 
one  of  these  storms  is  coming  on  they  lose  no  time  in  getting 
down  to  timber  line,  but  ignorance  was  bliss  and  fortunately 
no  more  serious  effects  occurred  than  to  have  Mr.  Case  stunned 
enough  to  fall,  and  though  he  was  soon  restored  we  could  not 
dispel  the  strange  feelings  that  had  so  nearly  overpowered  the 
entire  party. 

The  snow-storm  that  had  passed  over  us  had  dropped  into 
the  valley  and  become  black  as  night  from  which  forks  of 
ragged  lightning  sent  its  glimmering  lights  back  to  us.  The 
storm  clouds  seemed  to  fairly  bump  against  a  mountain  in  the 
great  abyss  below,  causing  them  to  rebound  and  float  back  over 
the  same  locality  again  until  they  struck  another  mountain, 
then  to  be  whirled  through  a  canyon  away  out  of  sight. 

We  had  been  so  absorbed  in  watching  the  grand  panorama 
below  that  we  had  failed  to  see  a  second  wall  coming  toward 
us.     This  time  it  was  not  the  fleecy  white  of  unf alien  snow, 


Georgetown  and  Gray's  Peak  43 

but  a  wall  as  black  as  the  starless  midnight.  We  saw  the 
lightning  flash  in  it  and  clouds  whirl  among  themselves  as 
they  came  steadily  on. 

The  great  black  mass  came  floating  toward  us  with  tokens 
of  danger  not  to  be  trifled  with.  There  was  no  need  of  words 
for  haste;  we  snatched  our  bridles,  not  waiting  to  mount,  but 
hurried  down  the  trail,  fairly  dragging  the  poor  horses  who 
stumbled  at  every  step  in  their  haste  over  the  loose  shale  trail. 
Over  a  mile  was  left  behind  when  we  stopped  for  a  moment's 
rest;  we,  too,  tumbled  and  tripped  over  the  rocky  way  intent 
only  on  reaching  lower  ground.  The  lightning  flashed  and 
the  thunder  reverberated  round  about  us,  echoing  from  peak 
to  peak.  Then  the  storm  began  to  break  in  fury.  We 
mounted  our  horses  the  first  moment  that  we  could  make 
any  time  by  doing  so,  but  we  could  not  escape  the  torrents  of 
water  that  came  pouring  down  upon  us,  and  we  raced  madly  on 
until  we  reached  the  Kelso  ranch.  Tired  and  wet  as  we  were, 
we  dared  not  delay,  and  quickly  getting  the  horses  into  harness 
again  continued  the  race  with  the  elements  to  Georgetown. 
Such  a  cloudburst  in  the  mountains  is  always  a  forerunner  of 
floods  in  the  canyons  and  valleys  below,  and  we  must  keep 
ahead  of  it  if  possible.  The  roar  of  the  oncoming  waters  was 
like  wings  to  our  horses'  feet,  and  we  turned  from  the  course  of 
the  storm  not  more  than  three  minutes  ahead  of  the  great 
waterspout  that  tore  up  the  road  behind  us  and  filled  the 
canyons  with  floods  and  debris.  It  was  a  race  for  life,  and  when 
we  turned  from  its  course  we  sent  up  a  shout  of  joy  that  echoed 
far  down  the  Georgetown  street. 


CHAPTER   IV 


TO  SALT  LAKE 


<-T^ 


N  1877  the  only  rail  route  across  our 
continent  was  known  as  the  Union  and 
Central  Pacific.  The  Union  Pacific  was 
from  Omaha  to  Ogden,  in  Utah,  where 
it  connected  with  the  Central  Pacific 
for  San  Francisco.  Some  points  of 
interest  along  the  Union  Pacific  have 
now  been  obliterated  or  the  roadbed 
changed  in  the  interest  of  lower  grades 
and  easier  curves,  but  much  of  surpass- 
ing beauty  still  remains.  We  closed  the 
year  by  a  trip  to  Salt  Lake  City  and  its  environs,  and  were 
enthused  over  the  novel  life  opening  out  before  us  as  Pard's 
work  progressed. 

Full  of  the  love  of  adventure,  before  leaving  Cheyenne 
for  Ogden  we  procured  an  order  enabling  us  to  ride  on  the 
cow-catcher  or  pilot  of  the  engines  whenever  we  desired.  In 
fact  our  pockets  were  full  of  special  privileges  to  go  where  we 
pleased  and  whenever  we  desired.  The  pass  on  the  cow- 
catcher was  one  of  the  favors  that  I  did  not  tell  to  my  mother 
in  my  bi-weekly  or  tri- weekly  records,  sent  to  allay  her  anxieties 
and  to  reconcile  the  dear  parents  to  the  vacant  chair  at  the 
home  fireside. 

We  went  over  the  summit  of  the  divide  seated  in  the  lap 
of  the  engine,  clinging  to  its  iron  supports  with  the  tenacity 
of  every  muscle  strained  to  its  full  worth.  What  a  wild  rush 
down  the  grade  of  ninety  feet  to  the  mile!  Through  tunnels, 
through  snow-sheds,  nodding  a  welcome  and  farewell  at  the  same 
instant,  and  then  two  miles  west  of  the  summit,  the  train  rolled 
onto  the  famous  Dale  Creek  bridge,  six  hundred  and  fifty  feet 

44 


To  Salt  Lake 


45 


long  and  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  silvery  thread  of  a 
stream.  With  bated  breath  we  clung  to  the  iron  rail  and  felt 
the  great  throb  of  power  behind  us.  The  view  was  magni- 
ficent, but  the  wind  blew  a  gale  and  seemed  determined  to 
carry  us  to  total  destruction,  and  in  the  midst  of  the  intense 
effort  to  hold  our  position  we  heard  the  excited  voice  of  the 


Copyright  by  Detroit  Photographic  Co. 

Crossing  Dale  Creek  bridge  on  the  cow-catcher 


engineer  saying,  "  Hold  on  tight  for  it  is  sure  death  if  you  loosen 

your  hold  a  d little  bit."    We  had  not  drawn  a  free  breath 

after  leaving  the  bridge  or  turned  for  a  look  of  thankful- 
ness in  each  other's  eyes  before  we  plunged  into  a  snow-shed 
and  succeeding  tunnel  where  not  a  glimmer  of  the  track  was 
visible,  and  the  darkness  of  the  moment  was  more  appalling 
than  when  we  could  see  the  dangers  around  us. 

Not  a  ray  of  light  penetrated  the  black  depths,  the  train 
creaked  and  the  engine  rumbled  like  muffled  thunder,  the  end 
of  all  adventure  seemed  to  press  upon  us  in  black  inevitable 
surety. 


46  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

"Fools  will  enter  where 
Angels  dare  not  tread.'* 

We  thought  the  engineer  had  allowed  us  to  plunge  into  that 
terrible  blackness  in  the  hope  that  we  would  be  dissuaded 
from  the  further  effort  to  ride  on  that  pilot  seat,  but  his  own 
pale  face  as  well  as  the  frightened  manner  of  other  trainmen 
who  rushed  to  the  front  as  soon  as  we  were  in  the  daylight  again 
gave  evidence  of  something  unusual,  and  it  was  soon  learned 
that  the  guard  who  usually  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the  tunnel 
to  give  assurance  that  everything  was  all  right,  and  to  keep 
the  tunnel  illuminated  with  lanterns,  had  been  suddenly  taken 
ill,  with  no  one  there  to  help  him  or  to  share  his  duties.  The 
train  was  well  in  the  darkness  before  any  one  realized  the 
full  import  of  the  guard's  absence,  then  the  engineer  did  not 
dare  to  make  a  stop  in  the  tunnel.  The  smoke  of  the  engine 
would  have  soon  suffocated  every  one  on  the  train,  and  he  hur- 
ried on  to  open  air  with  the  chance  and  hope  that  the  track 
was  all  right.  We  were  glad  to  climb  down  from  our  exalted 
seat  and  compose  our  nerves  in  a  quiet  nook  of  the  Pullman 
car  for  a  while  at  least. 

Leaving  Laramie  City,  the  soil  assumed  a  deep  reddish  hue, 
showing  the  presence  of  iron.  The  rocks  and  minarets  of  the 
mountainsides  had  most  fantastic  shapes,  from  massive  castles 
to  church  spires,  pulpits,  wigwams,  skulls,  and  almost  any- 
thing else  that  an  imaginative  fancy  would  help  to  find  in  the 
picture.  It  was  breakfast  time  when  the  train  pulled  into 
Green  River  station,  a  place  as  bold,  barren,  and  cheerless  as 
one  could  wish  to  see,  with  its  only  pleasing  features  in  the 
great  towering  rocks  and  the  rushing  waters  of  Green  River. 

A  short  distance  below  Green  River  City  Pard  pointed  out  a 
small  wooded  island  in  the  middle  of  the  river  as  being  an 
important  landmark  in  connection  with  a  thrilling  twelve 
hundred  mile  horseback  ride  of  his  in  earlier  days  from 
Denver  through  the  wilderness  a  hundred  or  more  miles  south 
of  the  Union  Pacific  road  to  Salt  Lake  City.  On  the  ride  in 
question  Pard  lost  his  partner,  Abbott,  by  drowning,  while 
they  were  fording  the  river,  the  stream  being  very  much 
larger  down  at  the  point  where  the  misadventure  occurred. 

Going  on  to  Salt  Lake  alone  after  the  sad  calamity  and 


To  Salt  Lake 


47 


numerous  other  unfortunate  incidents  and  close  calls  for  his 
life,  Pard  did  not  relish  the  idea  of  riding  back  to  Denver 
alone.  In  his  search  for  a  companion  he  heard  of  a  Scotch- 
man, named  Alex.  Cochrane,  who  was  intending  to  ride  over 


Green  River  Castle  and  the  island  where  Pard  and 
Cochrane  hid  from  the  Indians 


the  same  territory,  but  Cochrane  having  preceded  him  out  of 
Salt  Lake  they  missed  each  other  on  the  trail  for  several  days. 
When  Pard  finally  overtook  Cochrane  and  each  had  allayed  the 
fear  that  the  other  was  a  highwayman  or  a  horse  thief,  they  were 
overtaken  by  a  small  party  of  Mormons  who  wished  to  trade 
Cochrane  out  of  his  horses.  As  the  animals  were  finely  bred 
and  great  pets  Cochrane  demurred;  but  with  evident  deter- 
mination to  in  some  way  get  hold  of  the  horses,  the  Mormons  in- 
sisted on  accompanying  the  gentlemen  to  their  camp  for  that 


48  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

night.  About  daylight  a  great  commotion  arose  around  the 
camp  and  Cochrane  and  Pard  waked  up  to  find  themselves 
surrounded  by  a  score  or  more  Indians,  or  Mormons  disguised 
as  such,  some  of  whom  were  taking  great  liberties  with  Coch- 
rane's  horses,  such  as  riding  them  about  the  camp  and  patting 
them  in  a  familiar  way.  On  asking  their  Mormon  companions 
what  this  meant,  the  latter  replied  that  the  Indians  probably 
meant  to  take  the  horses.  Our  friends  thereupon  commenced 
saddling  up  and  by  dint  of  considerable  coaxing  and  apparently 
not  believing  anything  serious  was  intended,  finally  got  their 
horses  saddled  and  packs  on.  By  this  time  one  burly  Indian 
was  sitting  astride  a  colt  of  Cochrane's  favorite  saddle-mare 
and,  on  being  asked  to  get  off,  he  refused  to  do  so,  saying  he  was 
going  to  keep  that  animal.  As  Cochrane  and  Pard  leaped 
into  their  saddles,  the  former,  being  immediately  opposite  the 
Indian  who  was  mounted  upon  the  colt,  put  the  spurs  into 
his  mare,  and  at  the  same  instant  pulled  his  revolver  from  its 
usual  resting-place  just  inside  his  vest,  and  shot  the  Indian. 
The  riderless  colt  sprang  like  a  deer  after  its  mother  and  then 
began  a  race  for  life. 

There  was  a  long  chase  punctuated  by  many  lively  volleys 
from  the  pursuers,  several  of  which  took  effect  in  the  leading 
horses,  although  none  stopped  the  flight.  The  first  safe  ren- 
dezvous after  the  escape,  which  seemed  little  short  of  mirac- 
ulous, was  the  little  wooded  island  in  the  middle  of  Green 
River  just  referred  to.  It  was  here  that  Cochrane  begged 
Pard  to  leave  him,  as  they  were  pretty  sure  to  be  overtaken  by 
Utah  officers  backed  up  by  Indians.  Considering  himself  en- 
tirely responsible,  he  did  not  want  Pard  to  suffer  with  him. 
This  Pard  refused  to  do,  and  they  proceeded  on  their  long  ride 
to  Denver,  using  every  precaution  known  to  such  an  old  Cali- 
fornia backwoodsman  as  Cochrane  to  elude  their  pursuers,  and 
finally  reaching  Denver  without  further  serious  mishap. 

Just  back  of  the  city  of  Green  River  the  noted  Castle  Rock 
towers  six  hundred  and  fifteen  feet  above  the  valley.  Its 
summit  is  crowned  by  a  strange,  decomposing,  weather-beaten 
limestone  whose  outlines  are  like  a  huge  turreted  castle  falling 
in  decay.  The  whole  country  around  Green  River  was  most 
forbidding  in  its  barren  alkali  surface.  It  looked  as  if  the 
waters  of  the  universe  could  scarcely  cleanse  it  of  its  poison 


To  Salt  Lake 


49 


ash.  It  was  from  this  unat- 
tractive spot  that  the  Oregon 
Short  Line  first  divided  the 
arms  of  the  Union  Pacific 
and  sent  a  helping  hand 
across  the  northwest  to  Mc- 
Cammon  and  Pocatello  and 
thence  on  to  Portland.  The 
real  division  point  was  a 
few  miles  farther  west  than 
Green  River,  at  a  point  called 
Granger,  but  it  was  many 
years  before  the  business 
was  transacted  or  exchange 
made  at  the  real  point  of 
diversion. 

Forbidding  as  Green 
River  was,  it  had  a  fairly 
good  hotel,  and  was  an  eat- 
ing station  for  all  overland 
trains;  it  was  far  better  to 
have  transfers  at  Green  River 
where  waiting  for  late  trains 
did  not  mean  starvation  as 
at  Granger.  The  overland 
train  then  stopped  at  Chey- 
enne for  dinner,  Laramie  for 
supper,  and  Green  River  for 
breakfast,  and  did  not  reach 
Ogden  until  a  late  supper 
time,  making  the  time  thirty- 
three  hours  from  Cheyenne 
to  Ogden,  and  nearly  three 
full  days  from  Omaha  to 
Ogden,  which  has  now  been 
shortened  to  the  rapid  transit 
of  thirty  hours  or  less  for 
the  entire  distance. 

Soon  after  leaving  Evans- 
ton  we  again  took  seats  on 

4 


Devil's  Slide,  Utah,  on  the  Union 
Pacific  Railway 


50  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  engine,  much  against  the  wishes  of  our  new  engineer  for  that 
division.  It  may  not  have  been  a  rational  thing  to  do  because 
huge  rocks  of  the  disintegrating  mountains  were  constantly- 
falling  along  the  track,  and  the  vibration  of  the  trains  often 
loosened  some  overhanging  walls  of  Echo  and  Weber  canyons. 
But  we  could  not  withstand  the  temptation  to  chance  the 
exhilarating  dash,  and  once  again  in  the  open  we  wished  for 
two  pairs  of  eyes  to  make  sure  that  no  point  of  interest  es- 
caped the  vision.  The  curves  in  the  road  were  short  and  de- 
cisive, changing  the  entire  view  at  every  train  length.  High 
up  on  the  mountainside  "The  Witches"  were  holding  a  ses- 
sion of  consultation;  they  were  queer  formations  resembling 
tall  women,  one  in  a  pulpit  above  the  others  as  if  a  presiding 
officer.  The  walls  of  rock  were  so  high  and  craggy  that  only 
the  proud  eagle  could  find  a  resting-place  among  them.  In 
that  locality  was  also  the  famous  thousand-mile  tree,  just  a 
thousand  miles  from  Omaha,  and  it  bore  such  a  placard  in 
large  letters  to  be  read  from  the  train. 

Then  there  was  the  Devil's  Slide,  a  wonder  in  itself,  con- 
sisting of  two  walls  of  rock  about  six  feet  wide  and  from  twenty 
to  fifty  feet  high,  running  parallel  for  six  hundred  feet  up  the 
mountainside,  with  a  space  of  only  fourteen  feet  between  the 
ledges.  A  ride  down  that  slide  in  a  toboggan  would  afford 
thrills  and  chills  to  satisfy  the  most  ambitious  lover  of  wild 
sensations. 

The  rocky  cliffs  rose  from  five  hundred  to  a  thousand  feet  on 
either  side  of  the  canyon,  and  the  Weber  River  had  made  so 
narrow  a  channel  that  much  of  the  railroad  was  built  over  the 
middle  of  the  stream,  but  suddenly,  as  if  we  had  made  a  flying 
leap  over  all  difficulties,  the  canyons  were  left  behind  and  the 
Great  Salt  Lake  Valley  spread  its  panoramic  area  over  such 
vast  estate  in  the  foreground  that  the  mind  was  lost  in  the 
expanse  and  in  thinking,  with  Brigham  Young  and  his  apostles, 
that  it  was  indeed  the  "Land  of  promise  made  to  blossom  like 
a  rose."  Even  the  old  iron  horse  snorted  with  satisfaction  as  it 
halted  on  the  edge  of  the  heather  land. 

Salt  Lake  City  was  more  of  a  curiosity  in  1877  than  in 
191 1.  Brigham  Young  had  but  recently  passed  away  and 
guards  hovered  over  the  grave  held  intact  by  a  deeply  cemented 
slab.      But  in  spite  of  all  precaution  a  deep-laid   scheme  to 


To  Salt  Lake 


51 


carry  away  the  body  came  near  being  successful.  Several  men 
rented  a  nearby  house  at  the  base  of  the  hill  on  which  the 
cemetery  was  located.  They  dug  a  tunnel  nearly  to  his  grave 
before  their  plot  was  discovered  and  frustrated,  and  it  was 
never  learned  how  the  dirt  was  disposed  of  that  was  taken 
out  of  the  tunnel,  as  it  had  been  secretly  taken  away  and  all 
traces  covered  up.      What  a  curious  sensation  it  was  to  feel 


Copyright  Detroit  Photo  Co. 


Brigham  Young's  grave 


that  we  were  really  in  the  realm  of  Mormonism.  The  land  of 
tired  women  and  wizen-faced,  long-bearded  men.  The  stone 
wall  surrounding  the  most  of  Brigham  Young's  collection  of 
homes  was  still  intact;  it  was  several  feet  in  thickness  and 
ten  feet  high,  with  an  occasional  cumbersome  gate  bearing  a 
heavy  padlock.  His  own  office  building,  near  the  Eagle  gate, 
seemed  to  be  the  only  edifice  denoting  any  comfort.  His 
large  easy  chair,  where  he  was  wont  to  sit,  and  where  Pard  in- 
terviewed him  some  years  before,  still  stood  in  its  accustomed 
place  on  the  front  veranda.  It  was  there  he  was  so  often  seen 
in  converse  with  his  various  apostles.  Some  of  the  gates 
were  then  standing  unbarred  and  open,  exposing  much  of  the 


52  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

grounds  and  many  of  the  occupants.  It  was  indeed  an  iron-clad 
prison  during  the  life  of  Brigham.  The  home  of  the  favorite 
Amelia  was  just  outside  the  walls  and  across  the  street  from 
his  office  building,  and  there  was  but  one  finer  house  in  the  city 
at  that  time.     Later  she  sold  her  life  interest  in  the  house  for 

$10,000. 

The  tabernacle  remains  unchanged  in  its  general  features, 
with  its  seating  capacity  for  12,000  people  and  its  fourteen 
entrances,  each  from  nine  to  eleven  feet  wide.  Its  organ, 
built  in  the  building  of  native  woods,  was  a  marvel  of  its  kind, 
and  afforded  a  grand  accompaniment  to  the  choir  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  voices,  just  as  it  does  to-day. 

The  new  Mormon  temple  near-by,  in  the  same  inclosure, 
was  nearly  half  a  century  in  the  hands  of  the  builders.  The 
base  of  its  foundation  is  sixteen  feet  thick  and  nine  feet  on  the 
ground  level.  It  is  built  entirely  of  granite  brought  from  the 
Wasatch  Mountains  and  the  cost  has  not  been  less  than  $15,- 
000,000.  Its  subterranean  construction  is  a  marvel  of  in- 
tricate windings  and  strangely  constructed  apartments.  Any 
one  imprisoned  in  that  great  vault  would  be  lost  to  all  human 
aid  except  the  jailer  who  put  him  there,  and  all  the  strange 
tales  of  mysterious  disappearances  in  that  city  of  many  saint- 
less  saints  have  ever  been  connected  in  my  mind  with  those 
great  black  echoless  chambers.  It  is  there  that  the  endowment 
robes  are  put  on  never  to  be  taken  off,  the  robe  of  fealty  to 
the  Church  and  its  teachings  that  no  member  dare  deny. 

The  endowment  house  of  1877  was  v/ithin  the  Temple 
Block,  but  it  looked  like  an  ordinary  two-storied  dwelling ;  there 
was  nothing  about  it  to  attract  attention  but  its  ever-closed 
windows  and  blinds.  It  was  in  the  endowment  house  where  all 
marriages  were  performed.  Applicants  for  matrimony  were 
baptised  in  a  room  adjoining  the  main  building  the  night  be- 
fore the  ceremony  was  to  take  place,  and  they  were  then  told 
that  the  strictest  attention  must  be  given  to  every  detail  as 
they  went  through  the  "House  of  the  Lord"  on  the  following  day. 

It  required  a  service  beginning  at  eight  o'clock  in  the  morn- 
ing and  lasting  until  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  to  sufficiently 
impress  the  woman  with  the  abject  slavery  to  which  she  must 
submit  when  she  marries,  and  the  man  required  the  same  time 
to  gloat  over  his  power  and  witness  her  submission. 


To  Salt  Lake 


53 


There  they  were  anointed  with  oil  and  every  part  of  the 
body  blessed  for  its  usefulness.  They  were  given  celestial 
names  by  which  they  were  to  be  called  at  the  great  resurrec- 
tion. But  God  is  to  call  only  the  men,  and  the  men  must  call 
the  women.  It  rests  altogether  with  man  whether  the  woman 
he  marries  will  ever  be  called  to  life  eternal,  and  no  one  but 
the  husband  knows  the  celestial  name  of  the  wife;  the  wife  is 
never  to  speak  that  name  after  she  whispers  it  to  her  husband 
under  a  penalty  of  eternal  death. 


Mormon  Tabernacle  and  Temple 


It  is  in  the  endowment  house  where  various  robes  are 
worn:  the  apron  with  the  nine  fig  leaves;  again  the  robe 
consisting  of  a  long  piece  of  cloth  folded  over  and  cut  open 
in  the  middle  to  let  the  head  through,  then  girdled  at  the 
waist.  All  wear  caps  and  moccasins,  and  finally  the  real  en- 
dowment robe  is  put  on,  with  a  sign  of  a  square  on  the  right 
breast  and  a  compass  on  the  left,  and  on  the  knee  there  is  a 
large  hole  which  is  called  the  "Stone,"  but  I  do  not  know  its 
significance. 

These  suits  are  always  and  continuously  worn  by  Mormons 
now  the  same  as  then.  It  is  seldom  that  a  Mormon  will  take 
the  robe  off  all  at  once,  but  as  he  slips  one  part  off  he  puts 
another  one  on,  for  they  are  taught  that  no  evil  can  befall  them 
so  long  as  the  endowment  robe  is  on  the  body. 


54  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

There  were  no  marriage  certificates,  and  the  only  record 
was  a  list  of  applicants  for  marriage,  and  even  that  is  denied 
by  the  Church.  So  a  marriage  ceremony  might  at  any  time 
be  denied  if  it  was  likely  to  make  any  trouble  for  the  Church. 
If  it  was  desired,  a  polygamous  marriage  might  have  no  proof, 
the  bridal  pair  would  then  go  alone  in  the  marriage  room,  and 
there  would  be  no  witnesses  to  the  final  ceremony,  which  con- 
sisted of  kneeling  at  a  small  table  in  front  of  the  Bishop  who 
asked  a  few  questions,  made  a  few  commands,  and  pronounced 
them  man  and  wife. 

It  is  said  that  of  all  Brigham  Young's  fifty-six  children  not 
one  was  halt,  lame,  or  blind.  That  he  would  take  one  of  them 
and  dandle  it  on  his  knee  with  a  "  link-a-toodle,  ladle,  iddle, 
oodle"  the  same  as  any  other  dad,  and  he  was  always  particular 
about  those  who  came  to  play  with  his  children.  If  any  young 
man  tried  to  enter  the  family  gate,  he  was  put  through  a 
course  of  questions  that  implied  a  penalty  equal  to  the  In- 
quisition if  he  spoke  falsely. 

It  was  seven  o'clock  in  the  morning  late  in  December 
that  we  started  southward  from  Salt  Lake  to  the  valley  of  the 
Jordan  and  of  Utah  Lake.  At  the  American  Fork  Junction 
where  we  took  a  dummy  train  into  the  mountains  we  notified 
the  jolly  German  landlord  to  have  a  hearty  dinner  ready  for  a 
hungry  party  when  we  returned  from  exploring  the  canyon  and 
it  was  indeed  an  appetizing  trip.  After  two  or  three  miles 
in  the  open  landscape  we  entered  mountains  showing  the 
wildest  formations.  Gigantic  heights  on  either  side  looked  as 
if  the  molten  masses  had  been  forced  thousands  of  feet  up 
in  the  air  and  suddenly  cooled  in  all  their  irregularity  of 
motion.  The  air  was  perfumed  with  the  odor  of  the  pines, 
stately  cottonwoods  towered  above  us,  and  the  broad  willows 
swayed  over  the  running  stream,  while  the  maples  colored 
the  whole  landscape  with  their  bright-hued  leaves  still  cling- 
ing on  the  branches.  The  Indian  pinks,  which  are  so  charily 
cultivated  in  the  East,  grew  in  profusion,  and  in  the  wild  rose 
season  the  canyon  is  a  veritable  bower  of  pink  petals.  But 
over  all  stands  the  grand  Aspinwall  Mountain  fourteen  thousand 
feet  high,  as  if  stretching  his  white  head  to  kiss  the  clouds 
that  keep  him  wrapped  in  robes  of  purity. 

We  passed  under  a  hanging  rock  broader  than  our  car  and 


To  Salt  Lake 


55 


as  we  emerged  from  under  the  threatened  passage  there  loomed 
in  view  a  tall  crag  with  a  hole  through  it  like  an  all-seeing  eye 
ever  watching  and  magnetically  holding  in  place  that  delicately 
poised  mass  of  stone  that  might  cause  much  terror  if  it  were 
to  fall.  American  Fork  Canyon  was  one  of  the  most  noted  of 
the  Wasatch  range  of  mountains  for  snow-slides  and  several 
miles  of  our  way  was  under  the  sloping  roof  of  snow-sheds  that 
hugged  the  mountainside. 


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American  Fork  Canyon 


Dale  Creek,  sixteen  miles  from  the  junction,  had  choice 
features  for  a  summer  residence.  There  was  a  picturesque 
old  mill,  falling  into  decay  with  its  silent  wheel,  while  a  more 
modern  mill  was  turning  out  many  thousands  of  feet  of  lumber 
every  day,  and  close  by  thousands  of  bushels  of  charcoal  were 
lifted  from  the  smoking  pointed  pits.  The  active  mill  and 
charcoal  pits  were  not  inviting  features  of  a  summer  resort, 
but  the  Oregon  grapevine,  covering  the  mountainsides,  aided 
in  giving  to  the  whole  scene*  a  richness  of  autumnal  colorings 
that  held  one's  eyes  entranced.  It  made  one  weep  to  see  the 
great  glorious  trees  falling  under  the  woodman's  axe  to  feed  the 


56  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

clamorous  mill.  Oh,  with  what  wanton  wastefulness  the  great 
monarchs  of  our  forests  are  sacrificed  to  man's  avarice. 

The  little  Dale  Creek  station  was  five  thousand  feet  above 
where  dinner  was  waiting,  and  we  were  glad  to  hear  the  call  for 
the  downward  trip.  Nature's  handiwork  formed  a  grand  pan- 
orama, but  man  was  turning  its  glories  to  material  use  and  de- 
stroying the  enchanting  site.  The  havoc  of  trees  almost  made 
us  lose  interest  in  the  object  of  our  trip  to  visit  the  "Emma 
Mine"  which  was  then  one  of  the  banner  mines  of  Utah. 

The  conductor  stationed  himself  at  the  brake  in  front  of 
our  small  open  car  having  six  cross- seats,  and  when  he  gave 
command  of  "All  aboard,"  he  also  gave  the  brake  a  fling  and 
with  its  release  we  went  spinning  down  the  road  in  a  most  in- 
dependent manner  regardless  of  other  power  than  our  own 
momentum.  Words  fail  to  express  the  exhilaration  of  such  a 
ride.  We  seemed  less  a  part  of  the  majestic  scenery  through 
which  we  passed  than  when  we  trailed  up  behind  the  decrepit 
engine  or  the  sinewy  mules  that  carried  us  part  of  the  way. 
It  was  like  unto  a  racing  automobile  of  the  present  day  running 
on  slender  iron  rails.  The  mules  that  had  taken  us  up  were 
given  standing  room  on  a  rear  platform  and  seemed  to  enjoy 
the  ride  down- hill,  even  though  they  had  to  struggle  for  an 
equilibrium. 

It  was  in  American  Fork  Canyon  where  we  found  the  only 
free  school  in  Utah,  for  the  Mormon  leaders  did  not  believe  in 
free  schools,  or  in  educating  their  people,  except  for  church 
work. 

We  called  upon  a  Mormon  Elder,  who  was  also  the  post- 
master and  proprietor  of  a  music  store  at  the  junction  town. 
His  two  wives  occupied  contrasting  positions.  Wife  No.  i 
was  on  her  knees,  scrubbing  the  kitchen  floor  as  we  saw  her 
through  a  glass  door,  while  wife  No.  2  came  in  well  dressed 
and  sat  down  to  listen  to  our  conversation.  She  had  eyes 
like  a  startled  deer  as  we  plied  the  Elder  with  questions  re- 
garding his  religion  and  its  effect  on  their  lives.  He  made 
his  answers  with  surprising  alacrity,  and  when  asked  if 
the  Bible  advocated  polygamy  he  scratched  his  head  and  said, 
"No,  but  we  adopt  that  law  and  the  Bible  backs  us  up  in  it." 
He  advocated  his  principles  in  a  way  to  impress  strangers 
with  the  sincerity  of  his  Mormon  Christian  character,  but  we 


To  Salt  Lake  57 

had  hardly  left  his  place  before  we  learned  much  to  his  dis- 
credit that  the  courts  and  Uncle  Sam  would  have  to  settle. 

Our  host  at  the  junction  hotel  was  a  Mormon  out  of  grati- 
tude. He  reached  Utah  a  penniless  man,  and  the  Mormons 
cared  for  him  and  placed  him  where  he '  could  make  some 
money.  He  had  but  one  wife,  but  his  statements  were  so 
liberal  we  thought  he  must  have  half  a  dozen  at  least,  and 
^when  I  began  to  fear  that  we  might  miss  our  train  back  to  the 
city  he  said,  with  a  sly  twinkle  in  his  Dutch  eye,  "Now,  never 
mind  lady,  I  '11  get  you  there  in  time.  Don't  be  scared,  we 
have  women  enough  down  here  now." 

There  were  many  things  in  the  city  of  the  Latter  Day  Saints 
that  were  of  special  interest.  We  were  glad  that  circumstances 
often  led  us  there  whether  it  was  to  better  prepare  for  a  journey 
into  the  great  Northwest,  or  to  rest  on  the  return  when  nature 
has  endured  its  limit,  there  to  sit  by  the  side  of  a  warm,  bright 
fire  and  think  of  a  long  journey  drawing  to  its  close,  reviewing  a 
vast  panorama  of  places,  faces,  and  circumstances  rising  before 
the  mind's  eye  in  a  most  bewildered  vision.  In  our  long  tedious 
journeyings  I  often  longed  for  a  season  of  rest.  "God  bless  the 
man  who  first  invented  sleep!"  "  So  said  Sancho  Panza,  and  so 
say  I " ;  that  quotation  often  ran  through  my  mind  until  its  prosy 
tone  took  my  soul  away  to  float  among  the  lilies  of  dreamland, 
while  my  head  was  left  to  roll  at  will  against  the  hard  casings  of 
the  windows,  the  rough  ribs  of  a  stage-coach,  or  by  a  sudden 
lurch  to  almost  leave  my  body. 

In  1 88 1  Salt  Lake  City  was  much  excited  over  Governor 
Murray's  action  in  trying  to  exclude  the  Apostle  Cannon  from 
Congress  by  awarding  the  certificate  of  election  to  the  Hon.  A. 
G.  Campbell.  Extra  tithings  were  vigorously  collected  and  extra 
taxes  assessed  on  the  Mormon  Church  to  obtain  money  for  the 
apostle's  use  in  Washington.  It  was  the  first  direct  blow  at  the 
Mormon  life,  and  all  pure-minded  people  took  off  their  hats  and 
bowed  in  acquiescence  to  the  decree  that  crowned  the  effort  for 
Mormon  exclusion  with  success. 

Although  the  city  had  but  twenty  thousand  people,  its  build- 
ings covered  an  area  of  nine  square  miles,  with  broad  streets  and 
large  blocks  containing  ten  acres  each.  East  of  the  city,  three 
miles  distant,  the  Wasatch  Mountains  rise  abruptly  to  a  height  of 
eleven  thousand  feet ;  they  are  covered  with  snow  that  knows 


58  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

no  melting.  On  the  west  the  Oquirrh  Mountains,  which  are 
almost  as  grand,  unite  with  the  Wasatch  range  some  twenty 
miles  south  of  the  city,  enclosing  the  beautiful  Jordan  valley 
with  its  fertile  farms  and  fruitful  orchards. 

There  was  not  a  better  kept  hotel  between  Chicago  and  the 
coast  than  the  Walker  House  of  Salt  Lake  City.    Major  Erb,  the 


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Mormon  Tithing  House 


genial  landlord,  had  hosts  of  friends  whom  he  made  glad  to  come, 
and  sorry  to  leave.  The  house  was  a  four-story  brick  structure, 
while  the  table  was  noted  for  its  abundance  of  well-prepared 
eatables. 

There  were  no  public  schools,  but  every  Gentile  church  had 
one  or  more  schools  which  it  supported.  The  Presbytery  of 
Utah,  in  the  two  years  1880  and  1881,  had  established  twenty- 
three  schools  in  twenty- two  Mormon  towns,  employing  thirty- 
five  teachers,  and  schooling  twelve  hundred  children.  The 
Collegiate  Institute  in  Salt  Lake  City  was  at  the  head  with  an  at- 
tendance of  two  hundred  bright,  promising  scholars.  The 
Congregationalists  were  backed  by  the  "New  West  Education 
Commission"  of   Chicago  and  had  an  academy  and  primary 


To  Salt  Lake 


59 


school,  and  several  schools  in  outside  towns.  The  Mormons 
taxed  each  scholar  twenty-five  cents  per  week,  and  aside  from 
that  all  citizens,  whether  Mormon  or  Gentile,  had  the  regular 
school  tax  to  pay  into  the  Mormon  purse  which  was  kept  closed 
to  education. 

Mr.  Reynolds,  the  noted  polygamist,  who  had  been  for  two 
years  in  the  penitentiary,  was  released  in  1881  and  again  lionized 


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Co-operative  Store 


by  the  Mormon  masses.  The  Sabbath  afternoon  after  his  re- 
lease he  preached  to  a  crowded  house  in  the  new  church  in 
Temple  Block.  Every  available  corner  was  filled  with  the  fol- 
lowers of  his  creed  and  the  scheming  leaders.  He  cried  down  all 
teaching  and  schooling  save  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  and  the 
Mormon  faith.  He  said  his  imprisonment  had  not  made  him 
"love  his  wife  less  or  respect  them  less."  He  instantly  noticed 
his  blunder  in  using  the  plural  and  added  that  he  meant  his 
family. 

Amelia's  palace  had  long  been  unoccupied  because  of  a 
ghost  that  haunted  the  place,  and  the  superstitious  people  gave 
it  a  wide  birth.     Amelia,  having  sold  her  life  interest  in  the 


6o  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

place,  built  a  new  palace  on  her  father's  grounds.  Brigham's 
grave  was  no  longer  guarded;  in  1881  the  old  guard  died  and 
the  vacancy  was  never  filled. 

Many  miners  swelled  the  population  in  town  in  winter  sim- 
ply to  be  on  hand  to  move  at  the  first  bidding  of  the  most  ex- 
citing mining  field  in  the  spring,  and  in  '81  they  made  a  grand 
rush  for  Wood  River  in  Idaho. 

Park  City,  on  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad,  was  drawing  the 
most  local  attention.  The  Ontario  mine  there  was  one  of  the 
largest  in  the  West.  It  produced  $1,500,000  in  1880,  and  it 
was  the  bulwark  of  the  mining  industry  in  Utah. 

The  Hot  Sulphur  Springs  in  the  outskirts  of  the  city  were 
not  much  improved,  but  they  formed  the  favorite  winter  resort 
for  the  citizens,  and  street  cars  were  run  to  them  at  short  in- 
tervals. Fort  Douglas  was  not  as  attractive  then  as  now,  and 
the  guns  were  trained  toward  the  city  as  the  point  most  likely 
to  need  punishment. 

The  Salt  Lake  Theatre  was  a  little  gem  of  the  Doric  style 
of  architecture,  with  fluted  columns  and  massive  cornices.  It 
had  the  usual  dimensions  of  parquette  and  dress  circle  with 
three  balconies  and  four  private  boxes  and  could  seat  nearly 
two  thousand  people.  The  city  had  just  planned  to  have  the 
electric  light,  and  gas  stock  was  falling  below  par. 

Salt  Lake  City  was  fortunate  in  those  pioneering  days  in 
the  possession  of  a  splendid  circle  of  strong,  public  spirited  men, 
such  as  Judge  Goodwin  and  Pat  Lannan  of  the  Salt  Lake  Tri- 
bune; Governor  Murray,  with  Col.  N.  E.  Linsley  and  Col.  E.  A. 
Wall,  foremost  among  mining  men;  0.  J.  Salisbury  of  stage  line 
fame,  and  Walker  brothers,  the  bankers  and  merchant  princes, 
to  shape  the  destinies  and  ceaselessly  push  the  development  of 
the  city  and  surrounding  country.  The  four  Walker  brothers, 
though  in  different  lines  of  business,  had  the  unique  system 
of  keeping  one  common  bank  account,  on  which  all  drew  at 
will.  This  continued  for  many  years  even  after  they  were  all 
married. 

I  made  a  trip  into  Salt  Lake  in  1883  from  San  Francisco  in 
company  with  my  sister  and  her  daughter  and  Mr.  W.  H.  Bab- 
cock,  now  General  Agent  of  the  Lehigh  Valley  Railway  Company, 
and  his  wife.  Pard  had  preceded  us  by  a  few  days  and  was  to 
join  us  again  in  Zion  City,     After  leaving  'Frisco  it  was  learned 


To  Salt  Lake  6i 

that  some  of  the  passengers  were  taking  our  party  for  a  Mormon 
family,  and  we  decided  to  carry  out  the  Httle  play  for  their  en- 
tertainment. There  were  two  or  three  who  shifted  their  posi- 
tions whenever  possible  to  hear  some  of  our  conversations, 
which  we  took  pains  to  make  interesting  by  having  some  little 
jealousies,  or  in  talking  about  the  different  places  of  residence, 
and  which  one  was  to  go  on  East  with  W.  H.,  etc.  As  we  neared 
Ogden  we  drew  him  into  that  discussion  and  he  said,  "Well, 
now,  whose  turn  is  it  to  go?"  Of  course,  we  mentioned  the  wife 
by  her  given  name,  and  then  he  added:  "That  ought  to  settle 
the  matter."  He  wanted  to  know  what  he  brought  us  the  last 
time  he  went  East,  and  what  we  wanted  this  time;  also,  which  one 
should  go  to  the  ranch,  and  which  one  to  the  house  in  town,  and 
many  other  questions  that  made  it  difficult  for  us  to  hold  our 
facial  expressions.  We  had  the  passengers  pretty  well  wrought 
up  and  their  remarks  were  quite  as  amusing  to  us,  such  as 
"They  look  so  intelligent,  too,  don't  they?"  "I  would  like  to 
tell  them  what  I  think  of  Mormonism. "  "Is  n't  it  funny  how 
they  divide  up?"  "He  seems  to  think  a  lot  of  that  little  girl, " 
etc.  We  have  often  wondered  what  direful  tales  they  had  to 
tell  their  friends  when  they  reached  home,  about  that  "real" 
Mormon  family  that  seemed  so  happy,  and  did  not  dare  to 
quarrel  in  the  presence  of  the  Mormon  Master. 

About  noon  of  a  late  August  day  after  our  arrival  in  Zion 
City  we  were  attracted  by  loud  words  and  cries  on  the 
street  and  saw  a  big  burly  negro  in  an  altercation  with  a  res- 
taurant keeper  named  Grice,  whose  place  of  business  was  just 
across  the  street.  The  difficulty  arose  over  work  and  wages, 
and  the  negro  Harvey  grew  so  insolent  that  he  had  been  ordered 
out  of  the  establishment.  He  came  out  with  threats  of  violence 
and  flourish  of  a  pistol,  daring  Grice  to  come  out  on  the  street. 
Grice  first  telephoned  to  police  headquarters  and  in  obedience 
to  the  call  Marshall  Andrew  Burt,  the  most  popular  officer  of  the 
Territory,  who  had  been  Chief  of  Police  of  Salt  Lake  City  for 
nineteen  years,  and  Water  Master  Charles  H.  Wilcken  made  their 
appearance.  Mr.  Grice  started  out  with  them  to  find  the  negro 
and  they  had  not  far  to  go.  On  the  first  corner  stood  Harvey 
with  a  rifle  at  half  cock  in  his  hands.  As  soon  as  Grice  called 
out,  "There  's  the  man"  Marshall  Burt  advanced  to  arrest  him. 
The  street  was  full  of  people  but  Harvey  raised  his  rifle  and  fired 


62  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

directly  at  the  officer.     Marshall  Burt  fell,  with  a  cry,  and  died 
within  a  few  minutes. 

Officer  Wilcken  was  thus  left  alone  to  fight  the  maniacal 
negro.  As  the  rifle  could  not  be  used  at  such  close  range,  the 
negro  drew  his  revolver  and  shot  the  officer  twice,  but    they 


fe^k^ 

K 

■^Bjl^E;' 

f**^f*p». 

^^p^ 

J 

^^HH|.  y-  .;•»'  «JH 

Mmii-*iy'' 

.^ 

The  Hermitage,  Ogden  Canyon 

were  only  flesh  wounds  and  he  knew  he  must  overpower  Harvey 
or  more  people  would  be  killed. 

Those  on  the  street  were  so  panic-stricken  that  they  did 
not  realize  the  officer's  great  need  of  help.  Finally  Homer  J. 
Stone  stepped  into  the  fray,  and  they  soon  succeeded  in 
throwing  the  negro.  When  he  was  once  down,  people  by 
the  score  were  ready  to  tramp  on  him;  and  in  spite  of  Officer 
Wilcken  the  man  was  fairly  kicked  to  the  city  hall  which  was 


To  Salt  Lake  63 

close  by.  Within  ten  minutes  after  he  was  locked  up  it  was 
known  that  Marshall  Burt  was  dead,  and  a  thousand  infuriated 
people  took  possession  of  the  avenue,  clamoring  for  the  blood 
of  the  murderer. 

The  door  of  the  jail  was  broken  by  the  mob  and  the  negro 
was  tossed  out  all  bleeding  and  bruised.  The  air  was  thick 
with  oaths  and  imprecations  and  the  appeals  of  the  wretch 
for  mercy  were  unheeded.  He  was  dragged  a  distance  of 
seventy-five  feet  and  strung  up  over  a  beam  in  the  city  hall 
stables.  While  still  struggling,  his  body  was  lowered  again 
and  dragged  like  a  mop  over  the  sidewalk  for  two  blocks.  An 
express  wagon  was  procured  and  it  was  the  intention  to  drag 
the  body  from  one  end  of  the  city  to  the  other,  but  such 
an  outrage  was  prevented  by  Mayor  Jennings,  who  jumped 
into  the  wagon  and  cried  out  that  he  would  shoot  the  first  man 
who  attempted  any  further  indignity  to  the  dead  body. 

The  face  of  the  polygamous  wife  that  was  turned  to  the  Gen- 
tiles was  usually  a  smiling  one,  for  she  dared  not  imply  aught 
else  than  contentment  to  a  stranger.  If  one  visited  a  Mormon 
home  often  enough  he  might  ultimately  be  ignored  and  witness 
a  hair  pulling  scene  without  any  restraint.  It  is  not  in  human 
nature  to  submit  to  tyranny  of  one  wife  over  another,  and  they 
were  of  the  same  flesh  and  blood  as  other  women. 

Mormon  women  looked  at  me  in  open-mouthed  wonder  when 
I  asked  Pard  to  do  some  little  thing  for  me,  and  as  he  was  always 
bestowing  gracious  and  gallant  attentions  upon  me  they  were 
constantly  curious  about  us.  It  was  not  an  uncommon  sight 
to  see  a  Mormon  sitting  on  a  fence  watching  his  many  wives 
working  in  the  field,  and  more  than  once  we  heard  calls  to  one 
and  another  to  hurry  up  with  their  work.  Gallantry  was  some- 
thing that  a  Mormon  woman  could  not  understand. 

It  was  supposed  that  our  first  trip  would  be  a  brief  one,  but 
duties  multiplied  until  Pard  was  obliged  to  remain  in  Salt  Lake 
City  for  some  time.  I  had  promised  to  sing  at  a  concert  to  be 
given  at  a  near  date  in  Cheyenne  and  was  obliged  thereby  to 
return  alone.  Of  course,  it  was  best  to  brace  up  my  courage 
and  go  back,  for  Pard  wanted  me  to  help  his  old  friends  in 
their  musical  effort,  and  added  that  it  would  be  doubly  pleasant 
to  be  there  when  it  became  known  that  a  certain  appropriation 
was  announced  for  his  first  book  by  the  Territorial  legislature. 


64  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

After  that  was  over  I  was  to  go  on  to  Illinois  for  the  holidays,  and 
he  would  join  me  in  time  for  Christmas.  We  had  our  first 
parting,   and  our  first  disappointments  followed  closely. 

On  my  arrival  in  Cheyenne  I  soon  learned  that  the  concert 
had  been  postponed  as  my  telegram  had  not  been  received 
telling  them  that  I  would  surely  be  there,  and  also  because  of 
the  illness  of  another  one  of  the  participants.  Transportation 
failing  to  arrive,  I  did  not  get  off  for  the  East  until  Pard's  return. 

We  went  on  to  Omaha  together,  after  a  brief  trip  to  Denver, 
but  in  going  from  the  hotel  to  the  depot  in  Omaha  we  became 
so  deeply  mired  in  mud  that  it  was  impossible  to  extricate  the 
carriage  only  in  time  to  reach  the  station  as  the  train  was  crossing 
the  Missouri  River  bridge.  That  was  the  last  train  to  reach 
our  home  before  the  Christmas  gathering,  and  it  seemed  like 
the  last  straw  in  the  load  of  disappointments.  Youth  is  often 
deeply  hurt,  but  it  is  so  elastic  that  it  bounds  back  into  the 
happy  line  again  with  very  little  encouragement,  and  a  message 
from  home  saying  Christmas  would  wait  for  us  made  us  forget 
every  other  annoyance. 


CHAPTER  V 
IN  THE  COLORADO  ROCKIES.     ESTES  PARK 


FTER  our  Christmas  festivi- 
ties we  spent  several 
months  in  Omaha  where 
Pard  published  a  month- 
ly paper  called  The  New 
West  Illustrated  in  the 
interests  of  immigration ; 
'it  was  devoted  entirely 
to  the  Far  West's  attrac- 
tions, its  stock-raising, 
and  its  wonderful  min- 
eral productions.  In 
the  early  summer  we  went  again  to  the  mountains.  With  an 
atmosphere  at  once  cool  and  invigorating  we  were  made  to 
feel  as  if  treading  on  air.  Ascending  from  the  city  heat  to  the 
world  of  eternal  snows,  so  strangely  high  and  wonderful,  we 
moved  along  the  zigzag  road  from  summit  to  summit,  thinking 
always  that  the  next  pinnacle  would  fairly  afford  a  view  into 
eternity  itself,  and  it  was  a  surprise  to  look  down  into  a  valley 
for  our  destination. 

Estes  Park  is  a  veritable  Eden  nestling  on  the  north  side 
of  Long's  Peak,  twenty-five  miles  from  Loveland  or  Longmont. 
The  stage  ride  was  one  of  grandeur  from  the  very  first  turn  of 
the  wheels,  up,  up,  up,  along  the  zigzag  trail  until  the  day  was 
nearly  spent;  then  just  as  the  sun  was  slipping  away  for  the 
night  we  emerged  from  a  dense  wood  to  the  face  of  a  precipice, 
and  there,  down  a  thousand  feet  below  were  the  fifty  thousand 
undulating  acres  of  this  grand  mountain  eyrie. 

It  was  an  entrancing  sight  with  its  green  fields  and  mean- 
dering streams  surrounded  by  rocky  walls  thousands    of  feet 
high,  up  into  the  very  domain  of  the  snow  king.    The  hotel  and 
s  65 


66  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

little  ranch  homes  dotted  the  park  with  life  and  old  Long's 
Peak  seemed  to  stand  as  sentinel  and  guard  towering  over  all 
in  grandeur  and  dignity. 

The  crack  of  the  whip  sent  the  tired  horses  galloping  down 
the  steep  grade  to  the  MacGregor  ranch,  where  there  were  many 
people  on  pleasure  bent,  some  in  tents  or  small  cottages,  and 
some  in  the  main  home  building.  Mrs.  MacGregor  was  an 
artist  possessing  rare  merit,  her  decorative  work  around  the 
house  proved  her  ability  with  the  brush,  while  our  host  was  a 
retired  man  of  the  quill.  The  refined  atmosphere  of  the  home 
was  most  attractive.  Among  the  guests  was  Sol  Smith  Russell's 
favorite  brother,  who  was  enjoying  his  honeymoon  up  among 
the  crags.  There  was  also  one  Colonel  Jones,  a  lawyer  of  much 
renown  from  Texas.  We  sat  around  a  big  camp-fire  one  night 
telling  stories  and  conundrums,  thinking  the  children  had  all  gone 
to  bed.  Suddenly  a  small  boy  rolled  himself  into  the  arena  and 
called  out,  "Say,  why  are  Colonel  Jones's  feet  like  a  camel?" 
The  Colonel  was  the  prince  of  the  party;  in  his  fastidious  toilets 
he  was  always  immaculate  and  a  picture  of  a  man  perfectly 
dressed,  and  he  added  to  that  a  charming  individuality.  All 
eyes  were  turned  on  him,  and  we  waited  breathlessly  for  the 
boy's  answer,  which  was  drawled  out  in  regular  Missourian 
tone,  '"Cause  they  can  go  so  long  without  water."  It  fell  like 
a  sudden  cold  shower  on  the  assembly,  and  though  all  eyes  did 
turn  toward  the  genial  limb  of  the  law,  every  one  present  wanted 
to  apply  a  shingle  to  the  lad  where  it  would  do  the  most  good. 

Mr.  MacGregor  had  about  twelve  hundred  acres  in  his  ranch, 
from  which  the  table  was  supplied  with  fresh  vegetables,  eggs, 
butter,  cream,  and  other  tempting  viands.  The  cool  breezes 
coming  down  from  the  snowy  cliffs  and  ringing  in  sweet  ca- 
dences through  the  pine  trees  were  fairly  hypnotic  in  their 
influence  to  hold  travellers  in  that  enchanting  spot  during  the 
heated  term  of  the  lowlands. 

There  were  days  of  exploring  that  kept  up  the  excitement 
for  the  venturesome.  Lily  Lake  was  especially  interesting. 
Midway  up  the  side  of  Long's  Peak,  the  lake  contained  hundreds 
of  acres  so  thickly  covered  with  lilies  that  the  only  water 
visible  was  along  the  shore  line.  Instead  of  being  the  more 
common  white  lilies  they  were  of  a  deep  orange  color,  and  the 
odor  was  also  of  that  fruit.     The  water  was  deep  close  to  shore, 


The  Colorado  Rockies.     Estes  Park        67 

and  it  was  dangerous  to  ride  our  horses  in  after  them,  but  Mr. 
Bradley  of  Boulder,  Colorado,  performed  the  perilous  mission 
with  surprising  coolness.  When  he  was  reaching  down  from 
his  horse  for  the  few  last  flowers  to  complete  his  armful,  his 
horse  suddenly  went  off  into  deep  water  and  down  out  of  sight, 


Lumber  flume  by  the  romantic  wayside 

but  by  the  time  others  started  to  the  rescue  the  gallant  rider 
came  up  from  the  depths  triumphantly  holding  his  bunch  of 
lilies. 

An  irrigating  ditch  taken  from  Lily  Lake  was  dammed  every 
night  by  the  beavers  and  every  morning  a  ranchman  had  to 
ride  three  miles  to  tear  down  the  dam.  It  was  a  good  illustra- 
tion of  the  industry  and  persistency  of  that  energetic  water 
worker,  who  so  zealously  keeps  up  his  work  under  most  adverse 
conditions,  and  it  is  a  good  example  for  imitation  by  the 
human  race. 

Midway  to  Lily  Lake  there  was  another  small  body  of 
brackish  water  called  Mary's   Lake,   which  was  noted  for  a 


68  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


peculiar  variety  of  fish  which  inhabited  it.  When  grown  they 
are  about  a  foot  long  and  have  much  the  same  color  as  a  trout, 
but  they  have  four  legs  and  wallow  about  in  the  soft  muddy 
pools.  They  also  have  a  covering  over  the  head  like  a  hood, 
and  when  they  are  jerked  out  of  the  water  with  a  hook  they 
squeal  like  a  pig. 

Mountain  sheep 
are  fond  of  this  brack- 
ish water  and  in  the 
days  of  1878  they 
came  every  day  in 
large  numbers  to 
drink.  We  saw  sev- 
eral fall  under  the 
hunter's  bullet  and 
many  mountain 
cabins  were  adorned 
with  the  horns  of 
these  wary  cliff 
climbers.  Their 
horns  differ  from  the 
domestic  sheep  in 
being  much  larger 
at  the  base,  some- 
times five  or  six  inches  in  diameter;  they  are  curved  as  if  to 
enable  the  sheep  to  fully  protect  his  head  and  to  do  the  trick 
so  often  accredited  to  him  of  rolling  down  a  precipice  without 
breaking  the  points. 

In  Willow  Park  we  were  invited  into  a  spring-house  for  a 
drink  of  milk,  or  of  water  from  a  fine  spring  which  was  harnessed 
to  do  the  churning  by  means  of  wheel  and  shaft.  On  one  side 
stood  a  freezer  of  ice-cream,  most  tempting  to  warm  and  tired 
scenic  enthusiasts,  and  close  by  were  saddles  of  two  fine  elks. 
There  was  scrupulous  neatness  in  every  pan  and  board.  We 
noticed  our  young  men  making  goo-goo  eyes  at  several  respon- 
sive orbs,  and  fearing  that  we  might  permanently  lose  several 
of  friend  MacGregor's  boarders  we  hastily  mounted  our  horses 
and  led  the  way  at  a  gallop  down  the  mountainside. 

Another  day  we  were  on  our  horses  in  the  early  morning  to 
explore  the  mysterious  depths  of  Black  Canyon,  with  its  thick 


Estes  Park 


The  Colorado  Rockies.     Estes  Park        69 

growth  of  pines  and  black  and  gloomy  shadows.  None  but  an 
experienced  woodsman  would  have  known  that  we  followed 
a  trail,  but  the  confidence  in  Hank  Farrar,  our  guide,  was  abso- 
lute, and  we  plunged  recklessly  wherever  he  led.  I  rode  a 
cross  saddle  which  was  not  as  popular  as  it  is  at  this  advanced 
age,  and  my  costume  was  long  trousers  and  short  skirt,  with 
close  fitting  bodice.  Then  with  a  long  skirt  strapped  to  my 
saddle  I  could  quickly  change  my  appearance  when  I  dismounted. 
I  always  carried  such  an  outfit  throughout  my  frontier  ex- 
periences and  oftentimes  it  was  the  only  suit  I  could  carry. 
On  some  long  trips  where  we  had  but  one  pack  animal  there 
was  no  way  to  carry  anything  but  food  and  blankets  except 
what  I  could  have  strapped  to  my  own  saddle. 

We  followed  the  Black  Canyon  Creek,  and  as  we  went  stum- 
bling up  the  mountainside  the  creek  went  tumbling  down  its 
headlong  course  as  if  trying  to  equal  the  gaiety  of  our  cavalry 
brigade.  Three  miles  up  the  canyon  the  Black  Falls  at  eleven 
o'clock  in  summer  time  are  crowned  with  rainbow  colorings. 
There  was  one  fall  of  twenty-five  feet  and  then  after  many 
lesser  falls  the  whole  river  seemed  blocked  by  a  huge  boulder, 
perfectly  smooth  and  gently  inclined,  but  the  waters  struck 
the  rock  and  leaped  over  it,  falling  a  hundred  and  fifty  feet  in  a 
great  unbroken  sheet  shimmering  in  the  sunlight.  On  either 
side  of  the  river  the  ride  through  the  canyon  was  in  a  dense  white 
pine  forest  whose  lofty  tops  are  never  cheered  by  the  merry 
songsters,  for  no  bird  but  the  eagle  lives  at  such  an  altitude. 
We  climbed  on  up  to  Emma  Lake,  ten  thousand  five  hundred 
feet  above  sea-level,  and  there  we  stopped  for  our  noonday  rest, 
and  luncheon  in  the  warm  sunshine,  which  was  most  grateful 
on  this  July  day.  We  gathered  flowers  close  beside  a  snow- 
bank, and  in  a  little  cove  of  a  smaller  lake  still  higher  up  some 
half  dozen  of  the  party  paddled  about  on  a  huge  cake  of  ice. 
Some  of  the  most  ambitious  ones  scaled  heights  from  which 
they  declared  they  could  see  all  of  this  continent  and  part  of 
Europe,  but  we  smothered  them  in  snow  before  they  could 
further  slay  their  reputations  for  veracity. 

I  used  to  think  that  the  snowy  range  was  a  chain  of  moun- 
tains entirely  and  perpetually  covered  with  snow ;  it  was  a  disap- 
pointment to  learn  that  the  term  implies  only  fissures  in  the 
higher  ranges  where  snow  never  melts,  and  that  few  peaks  have 


70  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  surface  covered  all  the  time.  The  "Mount  of  the  Holy 
Cross"  in  Colorado,  derives  its  name  from  two  fissures  cutting 
a  mountainside  at  right  angles,  forming  the  shape  of  a  cross, 
and  in  which  the  snow  never  melts  entirely  away.  The  red 
shadings  of  the  cross  are  made  by  infinitesimal  red  animalcula 
so  numerous  as  to  color  the  snow.  The  snow  Hne  in  Colorado 
in  summer  is  about  11,250  feet  above  sea-level. 

The  return  from  Emma  Lake  was  somewhat  more  eventful. 
One  stream  my  horse  absolutely  refused  to  leap  across.  It  was 
too  deep  to  ford  and  too  wide  to  step  over.  My  ''Daisy"  would 
curl  herself  up  for  a  leap,  then  suddenly  decide  that  she  liked 
it  where  she  was,  and  would  turn  about  and  nibble  the  tufts 
of  grass.  It  required  the  help  of  a  rescue  party  to  give 
my  horse  some  unmistakable  demonstrations  of  our  earnest  in- 
tentions to  get  home,  before  she  would  bound  over  to  the  other 
side,  and  then  she  cantered  victoriously  on  to  lead  the  rest  of 
the  party  as  if  she  had  been  the  first  brave  horse  to  cross.  Night 
came  on  and  we  were  still  eight  miles  from  home. 

After  pushing  along  vigorously  for  two  or  three  miles,  the 
guide  held  up  a  warning  hand  and  faced  about,  but  we  were 
not  prepared  for  his  announcement  that  we  were  off  the  trail. 
Whoever  heard  of  Hank  Farrar,  the  guide,  being  off  the  trail? 
It  seemed  like  some  joke  he  was  playing,  until  he  dismounted 
and  made  several  side  trips  into  the  woods  to  get  his  bearings. 
He  led  us  at  last  over  rocks  and  fallen  trees  and  through  "cut- 
offs," until  hope  seemed  to  vanish  from  every  face  and  a  night 
on  the  mountainside,  without  food,  shelter,  or  blankets  was 
momentarily  growing  to  a  certainty,  when  suddenly  he  called 
out  "All  right,  I  have  found  it,"  and  we  knew  "it"  was  the 
trail,  and  we  were  merry  in  an  instant,  although  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  the  glad  light  that  beamed  in  every  eye. 

Mr.  MacGregor  had  become  anxious  for  our  safety  and  we 
met  him  coming  to  us  with  lanterns  and  a  basket  of  food.  He 
said  he  knew  we  wotild  get  in  all  right,  but  some  of  our  friends 
were  decidedly  uneasy.  After  a  good  supper  every  one  was 
glad  of  the  experience  of  being  lost  and  rescued,  and  camp  fire 
stories  of  the  trials  in  the  dark  woods  grew  quite  thrilling. 

The  next  day  there  was  a  total  eclipse  of  the  sun.  Slowly 
but  surely  the  darkness  spread  over  us  and  the  useful  smoked 
glass  revealed  something  coming  between  us  and  the  sun,  leaving 


The  Colorado  Rockies.     Estes  Park         71 

us  a  little  more  in  the  shadow  as  the  moments  passed.  A 
strange,  weird  light  enveloped  the  mountains,  and  an  uncanny 
essence  pervaded  the  whole  atmosphere.  The  dogs  barked  in 
savage  fear  and  their  hair  stood  straight  up  along  their  backs 
as  they  tried  to  find  some  place  to  hide;  some  of  the  poor  crea- 
tures cried  as  if  they  were  being  whipped,  some  howled,  and  still 
others  bayed  in  mournful  tones.  The  chickens  cackled  and 
sought  their  places  to  roost,  the  roosters  crowed,  and  all  the 


Hank  Farrar,  the  park  guide 

feathery  kingdom  were  chattering  over  the  unseemly  hour  of 
night.  The  huddled  people  felt  a  sort  of  ghostly  presence  as  the 
weirdness  of  the  surroundings  deepened.  A  sharp  quick  cry 
of  "Look!  look!"  caused  every  one  to  lift  his  glass  and  double 
his  energy  to  see  what  more  gruesome  details  were  to  send  the 
creepers  along  the  spine.  The  last  rays  of  the  sun  were  being 
hidden  from  our  view,  and  the  little  rim  of  light  seemed  to  be 
intensified  a  thousand-fold  as  the  rest  of  the  sun  passed  into  the 
shadow.  For  two  and  a  half  minutes  the  obscurity  was  total. 
The  corona  was  grand  beyond  description,  and  they  who  climbed 
to  the  near  summit  of  Long's  Peak  and  looked  beyond  the  limit 
of  totality  had  an  experience  that  seldom  falls  to  lot  of  man, 
but  all  were  glad  when  it  was  over  and  the  day  came  on  again 
with  a  greater  glory  than  we  had  ever  felt  before. 


72  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

A  strangely  pathetic  incident  was  that  when  night  really  did 
come,  and  all  that  had  been  so  strangely  weird  had  again  become 
normal,  the  feathered  flocks  of  the  barnyard  absolutely  refused 
to  go  to  roost  until  after  ten  o'clock,  as  if  anticipating  a  second 
deception,  the  roosters  crowed  and  the  hens  kept  up  an  inces- 
sant cackle,  until  with  almost  one  accord  they  filed  away  to 
their  respective  low  branches  of  the  trees,  still  scolding  and 
chattering  as  they  settled  themselves  for  the  night. 

It  required  a  day  or  two  of  quiet  before  any  one  felt  like 
making  other  explorations,   but  as  the  uncanny  feehng   fled, 


A  busy  day 

the  plans  were  made  again  to  follow  our  trusty  guide  through 
Horseshoe  Park  to  the  cascades  of  Fall  River.  Thus  do  we  all 
forget  strange  and  unseemly  conditions  when  the  skies  clear 
and  health  bounds  in  the  veins. 

We  had  to  leave  our  horses  at  the  entrance  to  the  Fall  River 
Canyon  and  climb  over  rocks  and  fallen  timber  for  miles  on  foot. 
There  was  a  wild  cataract  of  immense  volume  tumbling  madly 
over  grotesque  rocks  in  a  width  of  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet, 
at  the  head  of  which,  some  miles  farther  on,  a  perpendicular 
fall  of  one  hundred  feet  gave  an  impetus  to  the  motion  that 
lent  to  these  two  miles  of  cascades  a  force  uncontrollable.  Were 
all  the  grandeur  of  the  main  fall  and  cascades  confined,  old 
Niagara  would  have  to  yield  the  honors  to  her  western  peer 
up  here  under  the  protectorate  of  the  snow-clad  peaks  of  the 


The  Colorado  Rockies.     Estes  Park        73 

Rockies.  When  we  thought  of  the  many  marvellous  bits  of 
scenery  hidden  in  the  remote  nooks  of  uninhabited  places  in 
our  loved  country,  we  could  but  wonder  if  they  would  not  some 
day  be  revealed  by  railroad  invasion  to  the  travelling  public  as 
scenic  wonders  of  the  world,  and  be  made  accessible  with  less 
discomfort  than  was  then  possible. 

The  Earl  of  Dunraven  owned  the  largest  part  of  Estes  Park, 
and  it  became  a  favorite  resort  for  many  of  his  countrymen. 

Along  the  banks  of  the  many  streams  throughout  the  park 
were  numerous  bright  tents,  betokening  camp  life.  A  Boston 
party  were  reminders  of  the  Aztecs  in  their  barbaric  costumes. 
They  looked  as  if  they  had  spent  a  winter  in  reading  yellow 
literature  and  then  concluded  that  a  camp  trip  to  the  Rockies 
necessitated  costumes  of  outlandish  design.  One  stripling 
wore  a  pair  of  schapps,  a  six-shooter  strapped  around  his 
waist,  his  blue  flannel  shirt  decked  with  white  braid  and  brass 
buttons,  and  he  crowned  it  all  with  a  large  sombrero  trimmed 
with  tinsel  cord. 

His  sweetheart  was  attired  in  the  same  unconventional 
way,  with  the  gayest  of  gypsy  colors.  Her  feet  in  brogans,  not 
ornamental,  were  swinging  below  her  too  short  gown  of  navy 
blue.  Her  skirt  and  waist  were  profusely  trimmed  with  scarlet 
flannel  and  brass  buttons,  and  finished  with  a  long  fringe  made 
of  the  same  flaming  flannel.  A  gay  red  sash  girdled  her  waist, 
a  bright  red  bow  tied  the  braids  of  her  long  black  hair  and 
her  shapeless  hat  had  the  same  gaudy  ribbons  flowing  to  the 
breeze.  Such  were  two  of  the  party,  not  more  conspicuous 
than  their  companions.  It  must  have  been  a  surprise  to  them 
to  see  people  in  civilized  dress  in  the  camps  about  them. 

The  wonderful  scenery  about  the  park  is  more  seductive 
than  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  and  as  we  turned  our  backs  upon 
its  enchantments,  the  sun  never  shone  more  brilliantly,  the 
flowers  never  blossomed  more  beautifully  and  the  waters  never 
chanted  more  hypnotic  music,  all  luring  us  to  stay.  But  the 
high  stone  walls  and  pinnacled  buttresses  of  the  highway  soon 
hid  the  charms  and  left  us  to  the  plain,  practical,  and  unpoetic 
experience  of  chuck-holes  and  sidling  roads  in  the  ride  down  to 
Longmont  and  the  iron  horse  in  waiting.  We  longed  for  the 
trout  supper,  the  crackling  camp  fire,  the  soughing  of  the  pines, 
the  mellowing  lights  of  evening  time,  without   the  smoke  of 


74  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

factories  to  dim  their  lustre,  and  we  longed  for  the  quiet  hush 
of  the  night  and  the  faces  grown  dear  among  the  Bohemian 
experiences.  But  all  were  now  engraven  on  the  tablet  of  memory 
and  new  conditions  with  new  faces  were  again  around  and  about 
us.  We  had  a  long  trip  ahead  of  us  into  Montana,  and  we 
hastened  on  to  Salt  Lake  City  again  and  then  to  the  northern 
border  of  Utah  which  ended  the  rail  route. 


CHAPTER  VI 


TO  MONTANA  IN  1878   THROUGH  THE  BANNOCK  WAR  LINES 


<3.TfV^ 


'AY,  if  you  fellers  ain't  got  no  guns 
you  better  git  some  for  you  may  need 
'em  'fore  you  strike  another  town  o' 
this  size."  It  was  Jake  Parson,  the 
stage -driver,  who  spoke  thus  to  two 
travellers  preparing  to  take  the  outgo- 
ing stage.  Everybody  around  the  little 
Mormon  settlement  of  Oneida,  on  the 
north  border  of  Utah,  in  1878,  knew 
Jake  Parson  as  well  as  the  people  did 
all  along  the  stage  route  from  there  to 
Port  Benton.  He  was  a  little  taller  than  the  average,  with  keen, 
penetrating  eyes,  a  firm  mouth,  and  determined  expression  of 
countenance  that  such  men  have  who  push  to  the  frontier.  His 
hand  was  wide  across  the  knuckles  and  his  long  fingers  ended  in 
broad  cushions  which  touched  every  buckle  and  strap  of  the  har- 
nesses after  the  stock- tender  was  through  with  them.  "Don't 
know  how  derned  soon  we  may  have  to  get  into  a  race  with 
them  red  devils,  and  I  want  to  know  where  all  the  weak  spots 
is  in  this  here  gearin',"  said  Jake,  as  he  minutely  tugged  at 
every  part  of  the  outfit. 

The  Bannock  war  of  1878  was  at  its  height  and  no  one  knew 
what  terrors  might  befall  an  unprotected  stage  at  any  hour  of 
that  five  days'  trip  between  there  and  Helena. 

James  Randolph  and  Pard  heard  the  conversation  with  far 
different  feelings.  Randolph  was  fresh  from  New  York,  without 
any  knowledge  of  the  dangers  of  such  a  trip  and  evidently 
viewing  the  situation  as  a  huge  joke.  He  said  his  revolver  would 
do  for  him  as  he  displayed  a  tiny  toy,  while  refusing  to  provide 
himself  with  any  more  burdensome  firearms.  His  haughty 
manner  and  curt  speech  made  him  and  Jake  enemies  at  the  very 
start. 

75 


76  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Pard  was  made  of  different  stuff.  He  had  been  with  General 
Crook  through  four  Sioux  campaigns,  and  the  horror  of  it  all 
rooted  him  to  the  spot  for  a  time,  while  trying  to  clear  his  mind 
for  action.  He  knew  what  Jake  Farson  said  was  only  too  true. 
It  had  been  but  a  few  weeks  since  General  Crook  had  written, 


Copyright  Lee  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon 

Chief  Joseph 


forbidding  the  crossing  of  the  Blackfoot  country  to  Helena  at 
that  time,  but  it  was  thought  that  we  had  waited  long  enough 
for  the  danger  to  be  past.  The  papers  were  not  publishing 
any  further  accounts  of  the  war,  and  Pard  did  not  know  what 
news  was  being  suppressed  until  now  when  about  to  start  out 
in  the  thickest  of  the  trouble,  with  his  bride  of  only  a  few  months. 
To  take  her  into  such  dangers  seemed  an  impossible  thing  for 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    77 

him  to  do,  yet  there  he  was,  sent  on  an  important  mission  for  a 
great  corporation,  with  plans  laid  out  for  months  of  exploration 
and  hard  endeavor  on  which  depended  his  future  life  work. 

He  went  back  to  the  little  structure  graced  by  the  name  of 
hotel,  which  had  seemed  such  a  crude,  crowded  cabin,  where 
every  available  square  inch  was  made  to  do  service  of  some  kind, 
without  being  partitioned  off  on  the  first  floor  or  under  the  low 
gabled  roof  above. 

As  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  tallow  dip  glimmering  through 
the  window  with  all  its  homely  surroundings,  he  could  but  feel 
a  sense  of  security  and  comfort  compared  with  what  might 
await  the  party  on  the  long,  desolate  road  to  the  north.  It  was 
a  trip  of  five  days'  and  nights'  continuous  travel  to  reach  Helena, 
Montana,  in  an  old  Concord  stage-coach  that  was  already  piled 
to  the  roof  inside  with  mail  and  express,  leaving  only  cramped 
space  between  it  and  the  one  rear  seat  left  for  the  three  booked 
passengers.  He  looked  through  the  window  into  the  dimly 
lighted  room  and  saw  the  cheery  face  of  his  young  wife  as  she 
watched  the  packing  of  a  lunch  box,  and  warmed  the  heavy 
wraps  by  the  glowing  fire;  how  could  he  tell  her  of  the  danger 
ahead  and  much  less  take  her  along  with  him,  but  he  suddenly 
resolved  to  tell  her  the  conditions  and  then  send  her  back  over 
the  lonely  desert  to  her  home  friends,  while  he  continued  the 
journey  alone. 

With  this  clearing  of  the  dilemma  he  opened  the  door  to 
hear  her  say,  ''Well,  Pardy,  old  boy,  here  is  a  wondrously  fine 
fried  chicken  for  the  redskins  if  they  get  us  before  we  can  eat 
it."  The  resolution  in  her  face  and  voice  showed  no  sign  of 
retreat  for  her,  and  every  effort  to  persuade  her  to  return  was 
met  with  a  laugh  that  made  resistance  useless. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  Jake  drove  the  six  bronchos  up 
to  the  door  for  the  trio  to  get  aboard,  and  fill  the  last  available 
inch  of  space  afforded  them.  Mail  and  express  had  been  held 
back  for  a  number  of  days  because  of  the  danger  in  sending  it 
out,  until  the  accumulation  was  so  great  that  it  could  not  be 
properly  cared  for,  so  now  the  heavy  load  added  a  new  danger. 
It  compelled  slower  travelling,  and  if  the  stage  should  be  at- 
tacked by  the  savages  it  would  also  prevent  the  free  handling 
of  any  weapons  for  defence. 

It  was  not  a  very  merry  party  that  was  pulled  along  into 


78  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  black  night,  and  the  very  shouts  of  good-will  that  followed 
close  on  the  rumbling  wheels  seemed  like  a  wail  marking  the 
departure  to  where  none  return. 

The  long  bags  of  mail  were  under  the  two  seats  in  front,  as 
well  as  over  them,  and  left  no  way  of  stretching  out  the  limbs 
or  feet,  or  to  do  other  than  sit  in  a  perfectly  straight  position 
day  and  night  for  five  consecutive  suns. 

The  first  night  the  drive  was  comparatively  safe  and,  ad- 
justing themselves  to  their  positions  as  well  as  possible,  the 
three  passengers  talked  a  while  on  the  dangers  and  possibilities 


Eagle  Rock  Bridge.    First  one  built  across  Snake  River 

ahead  of  them,  and  then  one  and  another  began  to  nod  like 
sunflowers  in  a  breeze.  Occasionally  one  would  waken  and 
squirm  for  a  new  position,  only  to  settle  down  again  in  the  same 
old  uncomfortable  way. 

When  the  night  wore  away,  bringing  a  glorious  sunny  morn- 
ing so  full  of  hope  and  promise,  it  dissipated  all  fears  as  had  the 
darkness  generated  them,  but  Pard  knew  there  was  no  time  for 
a  cessation  of  alertness ;  his  well-trained  eyes  watched  the  horizon 
with  the  keen  instinct  of  the  red  warrior.  The  day  wore  slowly 
on  and  when  the  sable  shades  began  to  envelop  the  earth  again, 
there  also  came  a  greater  realization  of  helplessness,  and  a  cold 
fear  filled  my  heart. 

To  be  in  the  heart  of  a  wilderness,  to  know  that  it  holds  the 
brutal  redskins    waiting  for   prey,  and  from  whom  no  mercy 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    79 

could  be  expected  should  they  attack  the  party,  was  enough 
to  give  grave  thoughts  to  all  and  to  wonder  what  a  day  or  a  night 
might  develop. 

Just  after  dark  the  driver  reined  up  at  a  small  cabin  where 
dwelt  a  solitary  stock-tender.  The  stage  station  contained 
four  stalls  for  animals,  and  a  combination  parlor,  kitchen,  and 
sleeping  apartment  ten  by  ten  feet  in  size.  Over  the  door, 
outside,  huge  characters  read,  "Hotel  de  Starvation,  1,000  miles 
from  hay  and  grain,  seventy  miles  from  wood,  fifteen  miles 
from  water,  and  only  twelve  inches  from  h — 11." 

The  walls  of  the  room  were  decorated  with  pictures  cut 
from  police  publications.  Over  the  door,  inside,  in  charcoal 
letters  a  foot  in  length,  were  the  words,  "God  bless  our  home,'* 
and  in  another  place  the  notice,  "Wanted — A  nice  young  girl 
for  general  housework.  Apply  within."  The  host's  duties 
were  not  only  the  care  of  the  stage  horses  on  one  side  of  the  thin 
board  partition,  but  he  was  also  the  cook  and  general  utility 
man  on  the  other  side.  The  supper  table  stood  against  the 
partition  and  as  the  travellers  were  gathering  what  information 
possible,  while  trying  to  eat  some  of  the  coarse  food,  the  horses 
were  stamping  and  pawing  in  discontent  and  plunging  against 
the  frail  barrier  of  boards  between  them  and  the  dining  table 
so  violently  as  to  suggest  their  kicking  the  dishes  off  the  table, 

The  host's  news  was  far  from  reassuring.  The  stage  ahead 
of  us  had  been  attacked  by  the  Indians  and  burned.  The  driver 
was  killed  and  the  horses  stolen.  There  were  no  passengers, 
or  they,  too,  would  have  been  killed  or  captured.  It  seemed 
necessary  to  adopt  some  plan  of  action  in  case  of  an  attack,  and 
Pard  looked  at  the  driver  with  a  knowing  scrutiny  and  asked 
him  if  he  would  stand  by  the  party  if  trouble  came.  James 
Randolph  looked  up  with  a  puzzled  expression  on  his  face  and 
asked  what  was  meant  by  such  a  question,  as  he  could  not  see 
how  the  driver  could  do  anything  else  than  share  the  fate  of  the 
others.  Pard  said  he  believed  the  driver  was  a  fair  man,  and 
would  not  desert  us,  but  he  had  known  some  drivers  to  "cut 
and  run"  in  a  time  of  peril,  which  means  that  they  would  cut 
the  traces,  mount  one  of  the  horses  and  start  off  with  all  of  the 
horses  leaving  the  stage  and  passengers  to  their  fate. 

Jake  Parson  had  been  changed  off  down  the  road  and  this 
driver  lacked  the  frankness  and  firmness  of  speech  and  purpose 


8o  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

that  characterized  our  first  jehu,  and  when  the  question  was 
put  to  him  so  frankly  the  blaze  of  blood  was  apparent  rising 
beneath  his  swarthy  skin,  and  his  answer  was  evidence  enough 
that  he  had  his  own  safety  in  mind  when  he  drawled  out  that 
he  would  stay  with  us  as  long  as  he  could.  Randolph  instantly 
lost  the  indifferent  air  that  had  characterized  him  from  the  first, 
and  with  fire  in  his  eyes  he  turned  a  withering  glance  upon  the 
sniveling  driver,  saying,  "Now,  you  mark  me,  this  man  and  his 
wife  shall  keep  their  eyes  out  on  either  side  of  the  coach,  and 
mine  will  be  riveted  on  you,  and  the  first  move  you  make  to 
desert  us  will  be  your  last,  for  by  the  Holy  Church,  there  is  a 
horse  apiece  for  us,  and  if  one  goes,  we  all  go. "  With  that  bold 
thrust  he  left  the  table  and  lit  a  cigar  as  he  sauntered  out  of  the 
cabin  leaving  no  doubt  behind  him  of  his  sincerity. 

The  night  was  a  perfect  one,  the  moon  hung  full  and  re- 
splendent, and  the  stars  twinkled  as  merrily  as  if  looking  down 
upon  a  land  unknown  to  carnage  and  bloodshed.  The  stage- 
coach was  not  the  popular  old  '' thorough-brace, "  but  had  been 
changed  to  what  was  known  as  a  "jerky"  with  sides  and  top  of 
canvas,  and  a  boot  fore  and  aft  to  resemble  the  regular  coach 
in  all  but  size  and  comfort.  Some  of  the  mail  bags  had  been 
left  along  the  way,  but  the  smaller  coach  made  still  more  cramped 
positions. 

It  was  often  lam^ented  that  necessity  made  it  needful  to 
crowd  into  so  small  a  space,  but  now,  by  shifting  the  mail  sacks, 
it  served  well  to  reflect  the  shadow  of  the  driver  on  the  canvas 
so  clearly  that  his  every  movement  was  discernible  from  the 
inside.  The  first  part  of  the  night  wore  away  at  last,  and  mid- 
night brought  us  again  to  a  lonely  station,  where  no  change 
of  horses  was  waiting  because  the  tender  said  the  Indians  had 
run  them  off,  but  more  likely  he  was  afraid  to  go  out  in  open 
ground  to  bring  them  in. 

He  coaxed  and  begged  the  driver  and  passengers  to  remain 
with  him,  for  Indians  were  seen  on  the  road  ahead  at  five  o'clock 
that  afternoon,  and  death  surely  awaited  any  white  man  who 
dared  venture  on. 

A  council  was  held,  but  the  poor  shack  that  would  be  the 
only  shelter  was  a  burlesque  for  safety.  It  was  the  only  pro- 
tection gained  by  staying,  and  the  Indians  would  burn  th^ 
occupants  out  of  that  in  a  very  few  minutes,  if  they  could  not 


aaBibfil  drit  ^d  bajfoBtJB  ae^d  hsd  3u  io  bfisriB  93BJ8  sriT** 
9i3riT     .ndIot3  2d2iori  bnB  belfiji  sbw  i9vnb  9ilT     .bemud  bnB 
10  bslVfA  ased  eiBd  bluow  ^ool  ^x^di  to  aid^naaaBq  on  9i3W 

.08  .q     **.b9ii/jqB0 


8o  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

ii/Au  our  first  jc'hu,  and  when  the  question  was 
;iO  frankly  the  blaze  of  blood  was  apparent  rising 

leath  his  swarthy  skin,  and  bis  answer  was  evidence  enough 
ihctt  he  had  his  own  safety  in  mind  when  he  drawled  out  that 
he  W'ould  stay  with  us  as  long  as  he  could.  Randolph  instantly 
lost  the  indifferent  air  that  had  characterized  him  from  the  first, 
ari'l  with  fire  in  his  eyes  he  tumc^  -^  ,T,;iv.,,^^wr  ^ glance  upon  the 
Fuiveling  driver,  saying,  "Now,  ^  is  man  and  his 

wife  shall  keep  their  eyes  o;  of  ^he  coach,  and 

mine  will  be  riveted  on  ^'''-  '^  -  ''-^n  make  to 

desert  us  will  be  your  h  tliere  is  a 

horse  apiece  for  us,  and  if  one  goes,  wq  ail  go. "  With  that  bold 
thrust  he  left  the  table  and  lit  a  cigar  as  he  sauntered  out  of  thr^ 
cabin  leaving  no  doubt  behind  him  of  his  sincerity. 

The  night  was  a  perfect  one,  the  moon  hung  full  and  re 

u"The  stage  ahead  of  us  had  been  attacked  by  the  Indians 

and  burned.     The  driver  was  killed  and  horses  stolen.     There 

were  no  passengers  or  they,  too,  would  have  been  killed  or^ 

captured."     p.  80.  coach 

iiPt-awa  by  Charles  M.  Russell  liad  been 

lef  t  V  _  e  cramped 

position 

It  was  oitcv  \'  made  it  needful  to 

crowd  into  so  sr-  ,  shiftmg  the  mail  sacks, 

it  served  well  to  reflect  the  shadow  of  the  driver  on  the  canva 
'    ^ly  that  his  every  movement  was  discernible  from  the 
The  first  part  of  the  night  wore  away  at  last,  and  mid- 
ou^ht  us  again  to  a  lonely  station,  where  no  chan, 
01  aiting  because  the  tender  said  the  Indians  had 

nil:  it  more  likcJy  he  was  afraid  to  j^o  out  in  open 

groii 

lie  a  Liie  anver  cItki  passengers  it)  miiixju 

with  hi:  re  seen  on  the  road  ahead  at  f»\'e  o'clock 

that  afti  tth  surely  awaitt  a  who 

dared  vent'. 

A  council  but  the  poo:  aid  be  the 

only  shelt«"  wa  sque  for  safety,     it  waji.the  only  pro- 

tection gained  b_s  '"•■".   and  the  In<'^"*^'    ^' ould  burn -the 

occupants  out  of  the  very  few  mii  hey  could  not 


i 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    8i 

lure  them  out  in  any  other  way.  As  a  last  appeal  the  trembling 
stockman  finally  exclaimed,  "Well,  if  you  will  not  stay  for  your 
own  sakes,  for  God's  sake  stay  for  that  woman  you  have  in 
the  stage  there."  Pard  exclaimed,  "That  woman  is  my  wife, 
and  we  will  abide  by  her  decision;  if  she  says  to  wait,  we  will 
wait."  Advancing  toward  the  stage,  they  found  me  expectantly 
and  anxiously  watching  their  faces,  and  I  read  the  inmost  thoughts 
of  each  of  them  by  the  mellow  light  of  the  moon  and  the  sickly 
rays  of  the  lanterns.  It  was  a  desperate  situation  left  for  me 
to  decide,  and  perhaps  the  fate  of  all  hung  on  my  answer.  In 
spite  of  their  care  to  speak  in  low  tones  I  had  heard  the  most 


Indians  were  seen  on  the  road" 


of  their  conversation,  and  after  a  little  more  explaining  I  said 
that  to  go  on  with  the  stage  there  was  one  show  of  getting  away 
if  there  was  time  to  mount  the  horses,  and  the  moon  was  so 
bright  that  anyone  coming  toward  us  could  be  seen  for  some 
distance.  If  we  stayed  there  with  all  the  horses  gone  there  was 
no  hope  of  escape.  So  it  was  decided  to  move  on,  with  the  poor 
stock-tender  violently  gesticulating  and  declaring,  with  many 
oaths,  that  it  was  a  drive  to  death,  and  ended  with  "May  the 
devil  take  the  lot  of  ye"  as  the  last  vent  of  his  rage  at  being  left 
alone  again. 

Randolph  decided  to  take  a  seat  on  the  box  and  share  the  vigil 
of  outlook,  as  well  as  to  watch  the  mistrusted  driver,  A  signal 
was  arranged  whereby  the  inside  passengers  were  to  instantly 
get  out  and  mount  a  horse  if  an  attack  seemed  imminent. 

We  listened  to  the  grinding  of  the  wheels  in  the  deep  sand, 
and  watched  the  clouds  of  dust  roll  into  the  coach,  enveloping 
us  in  gray  cloaks  until  we  looked  like  hooded  monks.  Our  eyes 
and  ears  and  nostrils  were  full  of  the  fine  alkaline  ash  that  cut 
the  tender  skin  like  an  acid.     We  listened,  too,  with  bated  breath 

6 


82  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

for  every  sound.  If  one  spoke  suddenly  it  would  cause  a  re- 
sponse of — Hark!  The  breeze  flapping  a  curtain,  the  horses' 
hoofs  on  the  stones,  the  lurching  of  the  coach,  all  seemed  to  make 
a  different  noise  than  when  our  eyes  could  penetrate  the  distant 
shadows  in  the  light  of  day.  Once  the  driver  stopped  and 
climbed  down  from  his  seat.  Quick  as  thought  Randolph 
drew  his  revolver  to  fire,  but  heeding  a  second  impulse,  he 
jumped  off  the  stage  only  to  find  a  loosened  tug  which  the 
jehu  was  calmly  hooking  up.  But  our  companion  expressed  him- 
self in  no  unmistakable  language  that  Mr.  Driver  better  say  some- 
thing next  time  he  got  off  the  perch,  or  he  might  not  be  able  to 
fly  up  there  again,  for  there  was  to  be  no  foolishness  on  that  trip. 

Every  curtain  was  rolled  up  to  its  limit,  in  order  that  we 
might  see  as  clearly  as  the  moonlight  would  permit.  After 
every  sudden  and  seemingly  perilous  rousing  all  would  grow 
quiet  with  a  sort  of  dulled  consciousness  that  could  hardly  be 
called  sleep,  but  a  stupor  that  comes  to  over-excited  nerves, 
only  to  jump  to  action  when  the  slightest  agitation  occurred. 
Thus  the  night  wore  on,  while  the  sage-brush  shadows  seemed 
ever  to  conceal  a  dusky  form,  and  the  rumbling  coach  on  the 
rocky  roadbed  sounded  like  the  roaring  of  Niagara  to  our  over- 
strained ears. 

It  was  indeed  a  night  of  fear  and  horror.  The  Indian  fire 
signals  that  lit  up  the  horizon  at  several  different  points  were 
felt  to  be  the  telling  of  our  whereabouts,  and  we  might  be  going 
straight  into  a  deathnet  of  their  weaving  for  all  we  knew. 

With  a  good  repeating  rifle  across  his  knees  and  eyes  fairly 
bulging  from  their  sockets,  Pard's  tense  vigil  that  night  will 
never  be  forgotten,  and  I  knew  I  saw  an  Indian  every  time  the 
breeze  swayed  a  sage-brush;  every  shadow  gave  me  the  creeps. 
Never  was  a  morning  sun  so  gladly  seen  to  redden  the  eastern 
sky,  and  dispel  the  black  shadows  of  the  night  and  suspicion. 
The  poor  tired  horses,  doing  double  work,  seemed  to  partake 
of  the  courage  the  new  sun  gave,  and  quickened  their  pace  as  if 
sharing  the  joy  of  release  from  the  goblin  hours  of  darkness. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  when  the  stage  rattled  into  the  corral 
of  one  of  the  home  stations.  The  place  was  fairly  bristling 
with  soldiers  and  armed  men.  A  high  stockade  surrounded  the 
corral  and  portholes  were  manned  with  lookouts  and  guns. 
It  was  easy  to  see  why  the  ride  had  been  free  from  attack,  as 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    83 


these  trusty  messengers  of  Uncle  Sam  were  known  to  be  in  that 
vicinity,  and  the  Indians  had  fallen  back  from  the  road  and  given 
the  signal  of  the  soldiers*  arrival  by  their  many  fires,  thus  allowing 
the  stage  to  pass  unmolested  while  seeking  their  own  safety. 

How  glad  and  thankful  we  were  for  the  courage  given  us  to 
make  that  night  ride  and  reach  such  a  haven  of  safety.     But 


Courtesy  of  Lee  Moorhouse,  photog)^,.,.^i ,  i\>.^.c.^)i,  Oregon 

To-ka-map-map-e,  Squaw  of  the  Battle  of  the  Big  Hole^ 

the  sensation  of  peace  and  rest  was  not  of  long  diu*ation. 
Our  government  and  our  people  are  generous  and  resistless  in 
the  civilization  of  the  great  West,  and  the  United  States  mail 
must  move  onward.  Accommodations  were  ten  times  over- 
strained at  this  little  fortress  by  the  more  remote  settlers  seeking 

^At  the  Battle  of  the  Big  Hole,  when  General  Gibbon  engaged  Chief 
Joseph,  this  squaw  was  captured  and  tied  on  a  horse  behind  a  soldier  who 
was  ordered  to  take  her  to  Gibbon's  Headquarters.  She  succeeded  in  get- 
ting her  hands  free,  took  a  knife  out  of  the  soldier's  belt,  killed  him  and  made 
her  way  to  Joseph's  camp. 


84  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  refuge  of  safety,  by  freighters  with  their  wagon-loads  of 
costly  goods,  waiting  for  a  day  of  surety  to  go  onward,  stage 
company  officials,  stock-tenders  and  drivers,  and  a  few  travellers 
who  would  not  venture  farther;  but  now,  in  addition,  were  the 
njewly  arrived  troops. 

It  surely  was  a  place  devoid  of  all  comfort  except  that 
gleaned  from  a  table  well  laden  with  pork  and  beans,  bread,  and 
black  coffee,  all  of  which  better  satisfied  a  hungry  stomach  than 
all  the  dainties  of  a  rich  man's  table,  though  not  the  viands  an 
epicure  would  select. 

The  gleam  of  the  soldiers'  guns  in  profusion  gave  a  sense  of 
security  and  so  stimulated  the  desire  for  adventure  that  it  was 
decided  to  continue  the  journey  at  once,  hoping  the  first  flush 
of  excitement  given  by  the  arrival  of  the  soldiers  would  open 
the  way  for  a  safe  run  through  to  Helena.  We,  therefore,  ate 
our  breakfast  and  listened  to  tales  of  woe  and  fear,  and  watched 
the  faces  of  those  who  kept  silent. 

As  we  climbed  into  the  stage  again  there  was  much  muttering 
and  some  loud  imprecations  on  our  foolhardiness  in  deliberately 
riding  out  to  sure  death  or  worse.  The  day  was  a  perfect  one, 
cool  and  crisp;  the  clatter  of  our  horses'  feet  and  the  rumbHng 
of  our  coach  wheels  were  soon  the  only  sounds  to  break  the  great 
silence  of  an  uninhabited  country.  I  say  uninhabited  because 
there  were  no  homes  dotting  the  great  highway  in  1878  as  there 
are  now,  thirty-two  years  later.  The  stage  company's  stations 
were  from  ten  to  twelve  and  twenty  miles  apart,  and  once  in 
twenty-four  hours  there  was  what  was  known  as  a  home  station, 
where  supplies  were  stored  and  where  there  was  some  pretence 
of  defence  from  the  frontier  enemies. 

One  of  the  home  stations  on  this  line  was  kept  by  a  Mrs. 
Corbet,  who  made  herself  a  terror  to  travellers,  and  no  one 
passed  her  place  without  adding  a  bit  to  her  already  notorious 
history.  She  was  very  tall  and  large  of  bone,  and  claimed  to 
be  a  cousin  of  "Long"  John  Wentworth  of  Chicago,  who  was 
one  of  the  sterling  characters  in  that  city's  history.  It  was 
reported  as  not  an  uncommon  thing  for  her  to  go  out  with  pistol 
in  hand  and  command  stage  passengers  to  go  to  her  table  and 
eat  meals  that  she  had  prepared  for  them  at  one  dollar  per. 
Not  having  been  informed  of  her  peculiarities  of  entertainment, 
we  decided  to  enjoy  a  remnant  of  lunch  from  our  own  basket, 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    85 

and  when  we  had  finished  we  went  to  the  door  for  a  drink  of 
water,  and  were  informed  by  a  shrill  voice  from  some  obscure 
place  that  if  we  wanted  water  we  could  go  to  the  river  and  get 
it.  We  gazed  at  the  limpid  river  flowing  at  the  base  of  a  steep 
declivity,  and  thought  it  better  to  go  thirsty  than  take  any 
chance  of  having  the  stage  go  on  without  us.  As  we  drove 
away  from  there  the  driver  told  us  that  Dame  Corbet  was  sick 


Mrs.  Corbet  lifted  him  by  the  ears  and  put  him  out 


that  day,  else  she  would  have  been  out  after  us.  He  then 
related  how,  "a  spell  back,"  a  couple  of  Montana  gentlemen 
had  stopped  there  for  dinner  and  one  of  them  having  called  for 
coffee  was  quite  incensed  at  its  quality,  and  asked  the  waitress 
if  she  called  that  "stuff"  coffee.  He  had  not  seen  Mrs.  Corbet, 
who  was  standing  in  a  near  doorway,  but  she  walked  up  behind 
him,  lifted  him  by  the  ears,  compelled  him  to  put  the  price  of  his 
dinner  on  the  table,  and  then  she  put  him  forcibly  out  of  doors. 
Some  of  our  first  callers  in  Helena  were  given  this  story,  with  a 


86  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

few  additional  flourishes,  and  while  they  seemed  to  enjoy  it  as 
if  it  were  a  new  one,  I  later  learned  that  they  were  the  identical 
two  gentlemen  of  the  coffee  episode,  but  they  had  the  courtesy  to 
spare  my  chagrin,  and  listened  as  attentively  as  if  they  had 
never  heard  the  incident  before.  It  may  not  be  fair  to  tell  their 
names,  but  one  of  them  has  since  been  the  U.  S.  marshal  of 
Alaska,  and  figured  in  the  story  of  "The  Spoilers"  by  Rex 
Beach. 

That  third  day's  ride  took  us  off  the  Indian  war  grounds  and 
our  spirits  rose  according  to  our  thankfulness  and  hopes. 

At  the  last  station  before  reaching  Helena  the  driver  who 
was  to  take  the  stage  through  was  taken  ill,  and  much  to  our 
joy  we  saw  that  Mr.  0.  J.  SaHsbury,  one  of  the  owners  of  the 
stage  line,  was  to  handle  the  ribbons.  At  the  previous  station 
we  had  taken  on  a  young  lady  who  was  to  teach  in  a  country 
school  near  Helena;  she  was  a  newcomer  from  the  States  and 
had  stopped  at  intervals  of  her  journey  through  fear  and  weari- 
ness until  that  day;  she  had  gained  the  seat  with  the  driver  and 
held  it  until  the  end  of  the  journey.  In  the  parlor  of  the  Cos- 
mopolitan Hotel  the  new  teacher  made  me  her  confidante,  and 
the  things  she  said  about  Mr.  Salisbury,  "stage-driver,"  were 
intensely  amusing.  After  she  had  exhausted  her  adjectives 
in  describing  him,  and  her  surprise  at  his  conversation,  she 
ended  her  story  by  saying  that  he  almost  proposed  to  her  as  they 
were  driving  into  town,  and  if  he  was  a  stage-driver  she  just 
wanted  to  see  him  again.  When  she  was  told  who  he  was  her 
surprise  and  chagrin  knew  no  bounds.  Later,  when  he  told 
his  side  of  the  story,  it  was  doubly  amusing.  He  was  a  most 
extraordinary  man  in  intelligence  and  good  looks,  and  he  had 
played  rather  a  practical  joke  on  her,  which  she  soon  realized, 
but  she  was  not  allowed  to  be  the  only  one  to  feel  the  force  of 
the  joke,  and  to  his  dying  day  Mr.  O.  J.  S.  held  up  his  hand  in 
self-defence  when  he  saw  us  coming  toward  him.  Knowing 
him  well,  we  learned  his  side  of  the  escapade  before  telling  him 
what  the  fair  school-ma'am  had  said  of  his  lovemaking,  and  the 
blending  of  the  two  would  make  quite  a  readable  romance. 

We  reached  Helena  about  one  o'clock  of  the  fifth  night  out, 
and  in  spite  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  many  people  had  gathered 
at  the  Cosmopolitan  Hotel  for  the  latest  news,  as  the  telegraph 
wires  had  been  cut  by  the  Indians,  and  also  for  the  excitement 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    87 

of  seeing  the  stage  arrive  and  unload.  It  was  the  chief  enter- 
tainment of  the  town  for  the  four  and  twenty  hours.  Tired 
mentally  and  physically  from  the  long  perilous  trip,  there  yet 
seemed  much  buoyancy  in  our  movements  as  we  emerged  from 
among  the  dark  depths  of  the  old  coach,  and  with  a  sense  of 
security  and  safety  quite  exhilarating  to  our  benumbed  muscles, 
we  made  our  way  into  the  bright  hotel  office.  But  I  am  sure 
I  was  asleep  before  my  head  fell  on  a  pillow. 

The  house  was  only  a  two-story  brick  building,  the  rooms 
were  large  and  airy,  and  the  second  story  was  on  a  level  with 
the  street  in  the  rear,  so  that  an  entrance  was  made  on  either 
street.  No  one  thought  of  locking  doors,  and  when  we  asked 
for  a  key  to  our  door  we  were  given  our  first  "tenderfoot  laugh," 
although  they  did  hunt  up  a  key,  which  we  never  used  after 
the  first  night. 

It  was  the  first  experience  with  a  Chinese  "chambermaid," 
but  he  went  about  his  business  in  such  a  methodical  way  that 
it  was  enjoyable  to  watch  him  about  his  work.  Chinese  servants 
were  about  the  only  kind  to  be  had  in  Helena,  but  they  were 
loyal  helpers  in  any  capacity,  as  we  learned  then  and  later  by 
personal  experience. 

We  had  a  good  long  sleep  into  the  day  following  our  arrival 
and  arose  rested  and  renewed  to  get  a  daylight  view  of  the  town. 
Our  first  caller  that  day  was  the  Hon.  Robert  Fisk,  editor  of 
the  Helena  Herald,  who  began  immediately  to  lay  plans  for 
our  enjoyment,  and  to  open  the  way  for  us  to  gather  material 
for  various  publications  and  to  have  the  resources  of  Montana 
made  known  to  the  world  at  large.  He  first  arranged  for  a  drive 
to  the  Hot  Springs  about  four  miles  from  town,  which  was 
delightful  in  spite  of  the  very  rough  and  rocky  roads.  There 
were  practically  no  improvements  at  the  springs,  but  some  very 
crude  rough  buildings  that  served  as  shelter  only  for  the  bath- 
ers— quite  a  contrast  to  the  elegance  there  now,  which  has 
made  Helena  famous.  The  water  contains  soda  and  sulphur 
and  it  was  hot  enough  to  boil  eggs. 

We  were  most  generously  entertained  by  the  townspeople 
who  have  made  history  for  Montana,  including  the  Fisk  brothers, 
Col.  W.  F.  Sanders,  Col.  Sam.  Word,  Colonel  Broadwater,  Cap- 
tain Mills,  and  many  others,  who  have  closed  their  careers,  but 
will  live  ever  in  the  hearts  of  the  Montanians. 


88  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  scarcity  of  fruit  seemed  like  a  famine  of  luxuries.  Oranges 
were  a  dollar  apiece,  apples  were  seventy-five  cents  a  pound, 
and  the  hardy  pears  were  twenty-five  cents  each.  There  were 
no  tramps,  no  beggars  or  burglars,  no  objects  of  charity  in  the 
town — doors  were  always  left  unlocked  and  one  could  not  help 
feeling  a  sense  of  freedom  unknown  in  the  more  "civilized" 
cities  along  the  rail  routes.  It  seemed  a  pity  to  propose  a 
railroad  to  such  a  happy  community,  yet  the  thought  of  the  long 
distance  to  the  steam  horse  made  one  prefer  even  the  bold  bad 
burglar,  if  one  was  an  adjunct  of  the  other.  We  would  have  felt 
especially  shut  out  of  the  world  while  the  wires  were  down  had 
we  been  given  time  to  think  about  it. 


Typical  home  stage  station 

Messrs.  Schwab  and  Zimmerman,  the  managers  of  the  hotel, 
made  us  feel  at  home  in  ways  seldom  offered  in  these  later  days 
of  touring,  and  their  tables  were  full  of  tempting  viands.  Many 
of  the  army  officers'  families  made  the  Cosmopolitan  their 
home,  and  during  the  prevailing  Bannock  war  the  officers' 
wives  were  there,  living  in  the  dread  expectancy  of  fatalities  to 
loved  ones  at  the  front. 

There  were  some  queer-looking  individuals  in  the  dining- 
room,  and  I  can  never  forget  two  women  who  seemed  to  view 
life  and  their  personal  appearance  with  grave  seriousness. 
They  were  most  angular  in  figure,  tall,  slim,  and  stiff,  with  long 
slim  features  that  could  not  be  raised  into  a  smile.  Each  tried 
to  outdo  the  other  in  little  "spit  curls"  from  the  middle  parting 
of  the  hair  down  to  the  lobe  of  the  ear,  and  each  was  so  prim 
and  precise  in  every  move  that  one  could  easily  believe  they  were 
automatons.  I  do  not  often  smile  at  another's  appearance,  but 
they  fascinated  me  and  I  could  not  keep  my  eyes  from  them. 

Those  were  days  when  men  in  the  army  besought  their 


To  Montana  through  Bannock  War  Lines    89 

friends  to  bring  out  sisters,  cousins,  and  aunts,  and  they  were 
sometimes  weird  specimens  of  the  sex,  but  even  such  could 
reign  as  queens,  dance,  ride,  and  flirt  to  their  hearts'  content, 
and  marry,  too,  which  does  not  always  follow  in  these  later  days. 

The  frontier  was  a  fact  and  not  fiction  in  the  '70's.  A  woman 
in  the  far  West  was  a  blessing  sent  direct  from  Heaven,  or  from 
the  East,  which  was  much  the  same  in  those  days.  Almost 
everywhere  away  from  the  more  favored  ox  freight  lines  the 
modes  of  living  were  crude  and  often  far  from  tempting. 

The  furniture  of  a  stage  station  might  be  all  homemade, 
but  attractive  and  comfortable,  but  usually  it  was  stiff  and  scarce, 
and  the  seats  only  boxes  and  kegs  which  had  yielded  their 
contents  to  an  uninviting  table.  There  was  seldom  a  cloth 
to  cover  the  pine  board  tables,  but  that  was  better  than  the 
much  soiled  colored  ones  that  in  some  places  seemed  to  do 
service  for  a  whole  season. 

The  bottles  of  condiments,  with  the  addition  of  an  old  caster 
of  cruets  filling  the  centre  of  the  table,  wore  their  fly-specked 
paper  wrappings,  and  were  made  worse  by  dirt  and  greasy 
hands;  the  cups  and  plates  were  of  the  heaviest  and  coarsest 
ware,  glasses  were  thick  and  lustreless,  if  there  were  any  at  all, 
the  snout  of  the  cream  pitcher  (which  never  knew  cream)  would 
be  gone,  the  sugar  bowl  cracked,  and  over  all  in  season  a  swarm 
of  flies  settled  and  buzzed  and  fought  for  more  than  their 
share  of  provender. 

Yet  people  lived  and  thrived  and  waited,  for  in  the  wake  of 
all  this  toilsome,  dreary  pioneering  development  and  prosperity 
must  come.  With  the  coming  of  the  dainty  matron,  the  real 
homemaker,  the  whole  western  world  brightened,  and  it  was 
no  wonder  the  great  and  glorious  pioneer  cried  for  a  mate. 
Neither  must  we  forget  the  occasional  oasis  of  even  those  early 
days  where  everything  was  spotless  in  its  cleanliness,  and  the 
tables  were  loaded  with  the  choicest  viands  of  the  most  dainty 
housewife's  handiwork. 

Helena  of  thirty  years  ago  was  a  busy  town;  the  buildings 
were  mostly  two-story  bricks.  The  Government  Assay  build- 
ing was  an  attractive  structure  in  its  surroundings  of  trees  and 
grass,  and  on  the  inside  we  were  shown  through  the  whole 
process  of  the  works  and  examined  scales  so  delicate  that  even 
a  pencil  mark  would  change  the  balance.     I  wrote  my  name 


90  '         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

on  a  piece  of  paper  that  had  already  been  weighed  and  found 
the  writing  to  add  just  sii  of  a  grain.  I  am  curious  to  know 
how  much  less  weight  it  will  have  when  affixed  to  this 
manuscript. 

The  brewery  of  Helena  made  more  money  than  the  mint 
in  those  days,  but  in  a  way  quite  different. 

Captain  Berthoud  had  just  been  put  in  command  of  a  party 
of  some  twenty  men  to  make  a  survey  of  Yellowstone  Park. 
He  offered  us  the  protection  of  his  party  as  we  desired  to  go 
through  that  country.  General  Miles,  with  a  party  of  soldiers, 
also  invited  us  to  go  with  him  as  soon  as  the  Indian  outbVeak 
was  quieted.  But  the  Indians  did  not  quiet  down,  and  we  had 
to  wait  two  years  before  we  could  safely  make  the  trip  into  that 
great  wonderland. 


p^&'^ 

•  . 

1 

^H|9%jM^ra^J 

ki . 

*! 

'^^^ 

-          ?.-,~l 

Indian  war  dance 


CHAPTER  VII 
BUTTE.    VIRGINIA  CITY 

^"'  ^^^;^JL^  BBpHBROM  Helena  to  Butte 

'%^^^j^l^S^^/MS^^^^^^^n^~-     went  via  Deer  Lodge , 

'^^'^^jf^^^^^^^^^SB^^^K^^^  ^^^^^■^°^*  The  sun 

t  4  |^>v^N;^^y^^^^®^"     when  the  start  was 

made  from  Helena, 
but  only  a  few  miles  had  been  left  behind  when  it  began  to  rain 
and  the  storm  grew  in  intensity  for  the  rest  of  the  way  to  Deer 
Lodge,  where  a  delay  of  a  day  was  made  for  the  storm  to  spend 
its  fury.  However,  the  second  day  later  it  still  stormed  when 
the  trip  was  continued.  The  mud  was  deep  and  clung  in  heavy 
pads  to  the  coach  wheels  and  clogged  them  in  the  chuck-holes, 
until  our  six  horses  were  undone  in  extricating  the  stage  and 
pulling  the  load  over  the  divide. 

While  waiting  for  a  change  of  horses  at  Silver  Bow,  Pard 
sauntered  into  the  stage  station  where  he  found  a  copy  of  his 
book  on  Montana.  Not  averse  to  landing  either  a  compliment 
or  criticism,  he  asked  the  man  on  duty  whether  it  was  something 
worth  reading.  **  Yep,  that  's  a  great  book,  by  a  feller  who's 
got  'em  all  skinned  on  drawing  the  long  bow."  "  Well,  do  you 
mean  the  man  really  lies  in  his  descriptions  or  figiu"es?"  anx- 
iously queried  the  author.  "Well,  now,  stranger,  you  see  it's 
like  this.  You  can  read  that  thing  through  from  beginning  to 
end,  and  you  can't  put  your  finger  on  a  single  gol  darned  lie, 
but  the  fellow  what  writ  that  book  has  the  darndest  way  of 
telling  the  truth  of  any  man  you  ever  saw." 

By  ten  o'clock  at  night  the  stars  came  twinkling  out  to  light 
us  into  the  thriving  little  mining  camp  of  Butte  at  an  altitude 
of  fifty-eight  hundred  feet  above  sea-level,  up  where  the  sky  was 

91 


92  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

blue  and  the  air  then  was  pure.  It  was  in  days  before  the  smelters 
sent  forth  their  sulphurous  fumes  and  changed  the  atmosphere 
to  that  ascribed  to  a  much  lower  region.  But  trees  never  grew 
around  that  section,  and  with  no  water  the  town  must  be  lacking 
in  the  charm  of  shade  for  many  years  to  come.  They  say  in 
these  later  days  that  trees  would  not  grow  because  of  the  acid 
fumes  in  the  air,  but  they  had  refused  to  grow  ages  before  the 
smelters  were  ever  started. 

Our  first  visit  to  Butte  was  as  brief  as  we  could  well  make  it. 
The  hotel  was  most  objectionable,  and  was  overrun  by  creepers 
and  crawlers  to  a  degree  beyond  endurance.  The  stay  was 
rendered  quite  charming  outside  of  the  hotel,  however,  through 
the  courtesy  of  H.  T.  Brown,  proprietor  and  editor  of  the  Butte 
Miner,  and  his  wife,  who  invited  us  to  occupy  a  room  in  their 
own  home  while  in  the  town.  It  was  a  gracious  favor,  which 
was  more  than  appreciated.  When  writing  to  my  friends 
from  the  hotel  I  cautioned  all  of  them  to  examine  the  letters 
carefiilly  to  see  that  nothing  crawled  out  of  them. 

We  were  offered  two  of  the  choicest  lots  in  the  town  if  we 
wotdd  locate  there,  but  they  seemed  pretty  dear  at  the  price 
asked.  The  offer  was  left  open  for  two  years,  but  there  was  no 
change  of  heart  with  us,  and  we  lost  our  one  chance  of  a  fortune 
through  Butte  real  estate. 

At  that  time  clocks  were  kept  an  hour  ahead  of  time,  so  that 
servants,  workmen,  miners,  etc.,  would  get  up  early  and  put 
in  a  day's  work. 

Across  the  street  from  the  hotel  was  a  wholesale  liquor  house 
and  several  retail  places  for  the  fiery  beverage.  There  was  also 
a  dry-goods  store,  a  hardware  and  jeweller's  establishment,  and 
down  the  street  a  little  way  an  Odd  Fellows'  Hall  and  a  couple 
of  banks  made  a  good  showing. 

Butte  had  aspirations  to  be  the  pride  of  Montana,  leaving 
Helena  a  wall-flower  who  had  had  her  day.  It  was  in  the  days 
of  the  "Alice,"  the  ''Moulton,"  "the  Original,"  the  "Lexing- 
ton" and  some  thirty  other  mines  that  made  a  lively  camp,  and 
things  were  doing.  Hundreds  of  smaller  mines  and  prospects 
drew  a  population  like  a  magnet  draws  the  steel,  and  the  charm 
is  ever  invincible  to  those  who  have  once  been  under  the  spell. 

A  lively  mining  camp  illustrates  the  love  of  man  for  a  Bo- 
hemian life.     The  professional  man,  the  college  graduate,  the 


Butte.     Virginia  City 


93 


society  favorite  are  all  to  be  found,  with  manners  as  reckless  and 
debonair  as  their  garb.  When  they  came  from  the  far  East  the 
Missouri  River  was  known  as  the  dividing  line  between  restraint 
and  freedom.  At  Omaha  one  was  said  to  throw  his  Bible  and  his 
manners  into  the  river  and  don  his  schapps  and  leather  belt  of 
cartridges,  to  which  was  attached  his  bowie  knife  and  revolver; 
then  with  a  canvas  coat  and  a  slouch  hat  and  an  old  brown  pipe 
he  swung  into  a  mining  camp  with  an  air  of  intimidating  every- 


In  days  that  are  gone 

body  in  it,  and  a  bravado  of  manners  that  visibly  fell  at  the  first 
words  of  a  bull -whacker  who  recognized  the  tenderfoot  on  sight. 
There  was  never  any  use  for  a  tenderfoot  to  try  a  disguise;  the 
"earmarks"  were  as  visible  as  his  nose  on  his  face,  and  his  at- 
tempted bravado  would  make  him  the  butt  of  every  joke. 

It  is  a  strange  condition  of  man  that  he  must  progress  or 
he  must  go  backward;  he  cannot  stand  still.  The  white  man 
keeps  his  inherited  love  of  life  in  the  open  air  with  its  easy 
swing  and  lack  of  conventionalities.  It  is  no  wonder  then  that 
an  Indian  taken  from  his  free  life  and  graduated  from  an  Eastern 
college  will  return  to  the  agency  of  his  fathers,  hide  his  civilized 
clothing  in  the  brush,  mount  his  pony  and  with  a  pal  who  lies 
in  waiting,  dash  off  to  the  old  tepee  with  an  unsuppressed 
whoop  that  gives  vent  to  his  untrammelled  joy. 


94  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

There  were  fifteen  brick  business  blocks  in  Butte  in  1878 
and  the  growth  of  the  mining  interests  and  the  town  has  been 
a  history  the  Hke  of  which  is  unknown,  but  Butte  is  to-day  the 
same  forbidding  spot  of  barrenness,  without  trees  or  grass  to 
temper  the  glaring  sunlight,  and  people  live  there  only  to  make 
their  "pile"  and  go  elsewhere  to  found  a  home. 

Butte  consumed  eight  thousand  dozen  bottles  of  beer  in  1878, 
and  one  million  cigars.  It  also  furnished  many  historical  char- 
acters, but  there  were  few  men  more  widely  known  than  Judge 
A.  J.  Davis,  a  wealthy  bachelor,  whose  estate  was  finally  fought 
over  through  many  terms  of  court  until  the  most  of  the  fortune 
clung  inseparably  to  the  lawyers  who  had  the  case  in  charge. 

The  judge  went  to  Butte  with  a  modest  fortune  which  was 
replenished  by  mining  enterprises  until  it  reached  fabulous 
dimensions,  but  in  spite  of  his  horde  of  wealth  he  loved  it  all 
down  to  the  very  last  penny,  and  when  he  had  to  let  any  of  it 
go  without  a  promising  return  of  threefold,  it  had  to  be  drawn 
from  him  by  some  strategic  move.  His  avarice  and  his  ex- 
tortion was  a  byword  in  the  whole  country,  but  it  had  no  effect 
upon  his  itching  palm.  On  one  of  our  later  trips  into  Montana, 
when  we  had  learned  to  know  the  judge  and  his  ungenerous 
character,  we  asked  the  stage-driver  if  old  Judge  Davis  had 
married.  "Married!"  exclaimed  the  jehu,  "Married!  Why 
that  there  old  fellow  is  just  too  d — d  stingy  to  even  divide  his 
affections." 

Montana  is  in  itself  a  veritable  panoramic  park.  The  Crow 
Indians  had  a  saying  that  the  Great  Spirit  only  looked  at  other 
countries,  but  lived  in  Montana  all  the  year.  The  Sioux  Indians 
deem  it  an  honor  to  die  in  Montana,  where  it  is  so  beautiful 
everywhere,  and  only  a  step  to  the  happy  hunting  grounds  of  the 
Great  Spirit. 

Only  one  other  State  or  Territory  has  such  innumerable 
clear  streams  running  through  grassy  woodlands  or  taking  the 
serpentine  trail  through  myriads  of  canyon  fastnesses.  The 
forests,  noble  in  size,  had  clean-swept  lawns  beneath  their 
sheltering  branches,  and  everywhere  the  rich  alluvial  soil 
offered  such  diversity  of  industry  that  it  was  well  called  the 
Mountain  Paradise,  as  the  name  implies. 

The  names  of  some  of  the  rivers  are  somewhat  startling, 
but  were  doubtless  given  under  the  same  curious  conditions 


Butte.     Virginia  City 


95 


that  have  named  places  and  things  elsewhere.  There  was 
Crazy  Woman's  Fork,  Big  Hole  River,  Stinkingwater,  Hell- 
gate,  Badwater,  Ruby,  the  Gooseberry,  and  the  Owl,  besides  the 
great  triple-headed  Missouri,  the  Yellowstone,  the  Powder,  Big 
Horn,  Belle  Fourche,  and  the  Rosebud,  with  their  hundreds  of 
tributaries  that  altogether  make  Montana  the  second  best 
watered  domain  of  all  the  great  States. 


A  store  of  the  frontier 


One  night  on  Big  Hole  River  about  six  miles  from  Glendale 
we  were  delayed  and  lost  the  connection  out  to  Salisbury  on 
the  main  overland  route  to  Virginia  City.  The  stage  thorough- 
brace  broke  and  we  had  to  wait  for  a  new  one  to  be  made  and 
put  in,  and  we  did  not  reach  the  station  until  several  hours  late. 
The  inn  was  only  a  rancher's  cabin,  and  a  small  one  at  that. 
There  were  twelve  or  fourteen  men  to  stay  there  over  night; 
Mrs.  Bowe,  the  inn-keeper's  wife,  made  a  bed  for  us  without 
any  mattress  on  the  floor  in  the  living-room,  to  which  we  added 
our  own  blankets,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  deep  exhaustion  on 
the  hard  side  of  the  board  floor.  There  were  two  sick  men  in  the 
house,  and  the  daughter  of  the  house  was  also  ill.  One  of  the 
men  had  erysipelas  in  his  head  and  face  and  it  was  swollen  as 
full  as  the  skin  would  hold.  When  trying  to  do  a  little  some- 
thing for  his  comfort  he  showed  his  gratitude  by  the  tears  that 
trickled  from  between  his  swollen  eyelids,  while  he  tried  to  be 


96  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

mirthful  and  said  the  doctor  had  made  a  Bannock  Indian  out  of 
him  by  painting  his  face  and  neck  with  iodine. 

Pard  went  fishing  that  night  even  after  our  late  supper  and 
caught  a  fine  lot  of  trout  which  we  enjoyed  for  breakfast.  Then 
he  went  off  next  day,  leaving  me  at  the  cabin  to  put  in  my  time 
roaming  about,  reading  to  the  sick,  or  scribbling  away  at  one 
of  the  tri-weekly  letters  to  my  mother,  or  to  some  of  the  news- 
papers who  kept  up  a  call  for  "more." 

There  was  much  strife  between  the  two  of  us  lone  travellers 
for  news.  Pard  was  a  veritable  Corliss  engine  at  pumping  up 
statistics  of  the  various  products  and  prospects  of  every  foot 
of  land.  The  periodical  New  West  Illustrated  came  out  with 
astonishing  regularity  and  filled  to  the  brim  with  just  such 
information  as  emigrants  were  searching  for  in  view  of  new 
homes.  Then  came  the  special  book,  To  the  Rockies  and  Be- 
yond, followed  by  Montana  and  the  Yellowstone  Park,  and  the 
rhythmic  jingle  of  Where  Rolls  the  Oregon,  meaning  the  great 
Columbia,  with  its  headwaters  of  Snake  River,  from  its  source 
to  the  sea.  There  did  not  seem  to  be  much  left  for  me,  except 
just  little,  every-day  things  as  they  come  and  go  in  frontier 
lands. 

But  that  all  people  could  not  see  with  Pard's  optimistic  eyes 
was  evident  later  in  the  fall,  when  a  wagon-load  of  tired  travellers 
stopped  for  the  night  on  Red  Rock  divide,  just  before  reaching 
the  new  little  settlement  of  Salisbury.  The  wind  was  blowing 
cold  from  the  north,  and  the  snow  was  coming  down  in  blankets. 
Everything  was  wet  and  soggy,  and  dreariness  overspread  the 
party  of  immigrants  who  were  trying  to  make  a  camp  by  the 
roadside,  and  the  oncoming  darkness  only  increased  their 
discomfort. 

The  landscape  was  a  vast  panorama  stretching  far  away  in 
unlimited  grandeur,  and  in  fair  weather  that  same  summit  was 
often  called  "Inspiration  Pass."  But  now  it  hv^^^led  under 
its  snow  covers  and  lowering  clouds,  a  dreary  desolation,  void 
of  life.  A  woman  sat  on  the  wagon  tongue  from  which  the 
horses  had  been  led  away  to  hunt  for  their  supper  at  the  end 
of  a  lariat.  The  children  were  tired  and  cross,  and  the  little 
one  in  the  mother's  arms  fretted  to  be  free  and  stretch  its  tired 
limbs  without  restraint.  The  men  had  tumbled  out  the  mess 
box  and  made  a  shelter  in  the  wagon  box  and  under  it  for  the 


Butte.     Virginia  City  97 

night's  rest.  The  wet  canvas  cover  of  the  schooner  flapped 
loosely  and  noisily  as  it  opened  and  shut  to  each  and  every 
gust  of  the  storm,  and  betokened  a  weird  and  restless  night  for 
the  weary  mother. 

Our  stage  delayed  for  a  few  minutes  to  give  the  belated 
wayfarers  some  needed  counsel.  We  peeped  out  at  the  side 
of  our  closely  buttoned  curtains  and  contrasted  our  own  com- 
fortable corner  of  the  stage-coach  with  the  flapping,  bedraggled 
skirts  of  the  woman  on  her  way  to  the  new  land  of  promise. 
The  driver  told  them  to  go  on  down  the  hill  a  couple  of  miles 
farther  and  they  could  get  a  better  place  for  the  women  folks. 
Then  a  sharp,  shrill  voice  piped  up  from  the  wagon  tongue 
saying:  "If  this  is  Strahorn's  paradise,  as  his  book  calls  it,  I 
just  wish  that  he  had  to  live  in  it,  that  's  all,  but  I  wish  I  was 
back  in  Missouri  whar  we  'uns  come  from,"  and  then  she  burst 
into  tears.  She  did  not  know  that  the  man  "what  writ  the 
book"  was  enclosed  in  that  stage-coach,  or  she  might  have  said 
more.  We  drew  our  heads  in  from  the  window  and  felt  a  heart 
full  of  sympathy  for  the  poor  tired  family,  but  we  learned  in 
after  years  that  their  whole  love  was  given  to  their  Montana 
home,  and  old  Missouri  was  like  a  bad  dream  to  them. 

We  are  often  told  that  adversity  is  the  only  teacher  who  can 
develop  the  talent  lying  dormant  within  us,  and  Pard  had 
graduated  in  that  school  of  hardship  while  in  the  Sioux  cam- 
paign of  1876  and  spring  of  1877,  when  sleeping  in  pools  of  water 
without  a  tent,  and  then  on  winter  campaigns  with  but  one 
blanket,  and  mercury  freezing  in  the  bulb. 

The  desolate,  homesick  woman  put  Pard  in  a  reminiscent 
mood  and  he  related  to  the  companion  passengers  some  of  his 
own  experiences  as  a  campaigner  with  General  Crook  in  the 
Sioux  war.  From  tales  of  personal  sufferings  in  lack  of  food, 
blankets,  and  shelter,  he  told  of  the  literary  talent  that  was 
pitted  against  him  in  summing  up  war  news  during  that  campaign 
and  getting  letters  and  telegrams  out  to  their  respective  papers. 
For  instance: 

"There  was  Jack  Finnerty  of  the  Chicago  Times.  I  have 
always  had  a  notion  that  he  stepped  out  from  some  place  in 
Lever's  novels;  he  was  brave  to  rashness,  and  devoted  to  the 
interests  of  his  great  journal.  Joe  Wason  of  the  Alta  Californian 
and  the  New  York  Tribune  was  always  on  the  skirmish  line  after 


98  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

'pints'.  His  red  head  shone  like  the  danger  signal  of  a  freight 
train,  but  in  spite  of  his  red  head  he  was  one  of  the  bravest 
fellows  I  ever  knew.  There  was  T.  C.  McMillan  of  the  Chicago 
Inter-Ocean,  and  representatives  of  half  a  dozen  other  papers 
who  campaigned  for  seventeen  months  on  that  expedition,  and 
whose  readers  never  imagined  while  reading  the  reports  at  a 
comfortable  breakfast  table  and  growling  at  the  dashed  corre- 
spondents because  they  did  not  make  fuller  reports,  that  the 
"dashed  correspondents,"  dressed  in  rags,  soaked  through  with 
rain,  and  almost  crazed  with  want  of  food  and  rest,  had  written 
what  they  could  on  a  cottonwood  chip  or  piece  of  fiat  stone, 
and  often  at  the  risk  of  life  from  stray  bullets." 

Those  were  days  of  hardship  and  peril  that  made  this 
night  of  storm  and  this  woman's  distress  a  paradise  if  she  could 
not  see  it  through  the  snowflakes.  The  snow  increased  in  its 
blinding  fury,  the  driver  could  no  longer  see  the  road,  nor  tell 
where  to  drive.  Gen.  Charles  A.  Warren,  a  noted  figure  in  the 
history  of  Montana  and  Washington,  was  one  of  the  occupants 
of  the  stage.  He  was  a  man  of  strong  build  and  a  nature  inured 
to  the  mountain  hardships.  When  he  saw  the  serious  condition 
we  were  in,  he  at  once  leaped  from  the  stage  and  with  one  com- 
panion broke  the  road  ahead  through  the  drifting  snow  to  guide 
the  horses  into  a  safe  route  over  the  mountain  and  through  the 
dark  ravines.  For  hours  those  brave  ones  toiled  on,  refusing 
to  yield  their  places  to  any  one  else  until  the  valley  road  insured 
our  safety.  We  have  met  the  old  general  many  a  time  since 
then  and  he  laughingly  refers  to  our  night  trip  over  the 
"Paradise  Road." 

A  faint  glimmer  of  lights  through  unshaded  windows  be- 
tokened the  Httle  town  of  Salisbury  at  last,  and  we  were  at  rest 
until  another  day  dawned,  and  we  branched  off  for  the  gold-famed 
city  of  Virginia. 

Gulch  gold  is  not  the  only  thing  that  has  made  Virginia 
City  famous;  it  had  been  for  several  years  a  rendezvous  for 
the  thugs  and  highwaymen  that  kept  the  territory  of  Montana 
in  a  state  of  fear  and  terror  until  the  Vigilantes  Association 
was  formed  to  rid  the  country  of  the  despicable  oppression. 

It  was  during  our  first  trip  to  Virginia  City  in  1878  that  the 
first  man  was  hung  by  order  of  the  court.  The  sheriff  who  was  to 
perform  the  duty  arrived  on  the  same  stage  that  we  did.     He 


Butte.     Virginia  City  99 

had  explained  the  affair  to  us  en  route,  and  said  no  one  would  be 
admitted  to  the  hanging  except  those  having  written  invita- 
tions. And  what  was  our  surprise  on  the  morning  following  our 
arrival  to  receive  one  of  those  "written  invitations"  to  be 
present  at  that  first  legal  hanging.  It  is  needless  to  say  that  we 
did  not  accept  the  courtesy  and  at  the  awful  hour  we  were 
as  far  away  from  the  scene  of  action  as  it  was  possible  to  be. 


Finding  the  gold  that  made  Virginia  City  famous 

Our  headquarters  were  at  the  Madison  House,  the  chief  hotel 
of  the  city,  kept  by  Mr.  F.  J.  Farrell,  but  there  was  not  much 
to  delay  us  in  Virginia  City.  Two  or  three  days  would  have 
given  us  ample  time  to  visit  the  famous  giilch  mines  and  for 
Pard  to  gather  his  statistics  and  such  information  as  he 
required.  But  the  time  had  come  for  all  stage  lines  to  put  on 
what  was  called  "winter  schedule  time,"  which  meant  no 
travelling  at  night,  but  stopping  and  starting  at  seasonable 
or  unseasonable  hours,  according  to  the  distance  to  be  made  and 
the  condition  of  the  roads.  Sometimes  a  stop  woiild  be  called 
at  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  and  a  delay  until  the  next 
morning  at  seven,  or  it  might  be  a  stop  at  eleven  at  night  with 
a  call  to  go  on  at  three  a.m.  Here  we  found  a  new  phase,  for  not 
only  would  the  stage  stop  at  the  half-way  station  over  night  but 


loo         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

it  would  stay  there  over  Sunday.  There  was  no  regularity 
about  anything  but  the  discomfort.  Travelling  on  passes  and 
in  the  interests  of  the  transportation  companies,  we  were  always 
expected  to  smile  and  look  pleasant  whate'er  befell  us,  but  there 
were  many  moments  when  we  wished  we  were  paying  our  fare 
and  had  the  privilege  of  free  speech.  If  there  is  any  one  thing 
that  my  Pard  does  more  freely  in  his  later  days  than  to  pay  rail- 
road fare,  I  don't  know  what  it  is.  We  were  never  required  or 
requested  to  restrain  our  speech,  but  we  knew  it  to  be  an  unwritten 
duty,  and  we  lived  up  to  it.  If  we  do  a  little  complaining  now 
it  is  because  we  know  we  could  not  suffer  all  those  hardships 
and  inconveniences  in  our  maturer  years,  and  we  wonder  how 
we  endured  them  then. 

The  novelty  and  excitement  of  travelling  as  we  were  then 
doing  was  a  wondrous  joy  in  spite  of  all  unpleasant  conditions. 
As  soon  as  it  was  known  in  a  community  what  the  import  of 
Pard's  mission  meant,  every  door  was  opened  to  us,  and  we  were 
not  only  entertained  by  the  "four  hundred"  in  their  homes, 
but  every  facility  was  placed  at  our  disposal  for  promoting 
the  interests  of  the  work.  It  was  a  rare  opportunity  such  as 
no  two  other  people  ever  enjoyed,  and  we  appreciated  it  to  the 
full  in  spite  of  its  hardships.  We  came  in  contact  with  the  very 
best  people  and  formed  lifelong  friendships  that  have  ever  been 
dear  and  sacred. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


COLONEL  SANDERS  AND   THE  VIGILANTES 


O'FP 


HEN  we  left  Virginia  City  to  go  back  to 
Helena  we  had  the  charming  companion- 
ship of  Col.  W.  F.  Sanders.  It  was  an 
all  night  ride,  but  he  made  the  time  so 
intensely  interesting  in  telling  of  his  ex- 
periences' dviring  vigilante  days  that  no  one 
ever  missed  the  naps  he  might  have  caught 
had  there  been  the  usual  stage  load.  The 
colonel  was  one  of  the  earliest  pioneers  of 
Montana,  even  when  it  was  called  Idaho, 
in  the  earliest  '6o's. 
The  Territory  was  in  the  hands  of  men  who  feared  no  penalty 
for  their  crimes,  and  it  was  rid  of  them  at  the  hands  of  men  no 
less  lawless  in  their  taking  off,  but  working  to  accomplish  what 
the  laws  coiild  not.  The  discovery  in  the  fall  of  1863  of  more 
than  one  hundred  bodies  of  victims  of  the  road  agents  finally 
aroused  the  feelings  of  the  law-abiding  citizens  of  Montana  to  a 
pitch  of  frenzy.  They  felt  that  the  mysterious  disappearance  of 
many  other  men  was  to  be  traced  to  the  bandits.  Scores  of 
miners  who  had  set  out  with  large  sums  of  money  for  various 
places  had  never  been  heard  of  and  had  never  reached  their 
destinations. 

Colonel  Sanders  had  taken  up  his  residence  at  Bannock 
City  when  it  was  only  about  a  year  old,  and  Virginia  City  and 
Nevada  City  close  by  were  just  getting  on  the  map.  There  were 
no  livelier  settlements  than  these  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 
The  craze  for  gold  had  collected  there  California  gamblers  and 
cutthroats,  Mexican  desperadoes,  deserters  from  both  the 
Federal  and  the  Confederate  armies,  fugitives  from  justice  of 
a  dozen  countries,  and  last  and  least  in  number  were  a  few 
honest    miners    and    peaceful    immigrants.     There    was    little 

lOI 


I02         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

government  and  no  law  except  a  limited  quantity  of  the  home- 
made article.  It  was  here  that  Colonel  Sanders  became  prose- 
cuting attorney. 

Murders  occurred  daily,  almost  hourly.  Had  there  been 
the  most  perfect  system  of  legal  procedure,  time  would  not  have 
permitted  of  the  orderly  trial  of  offenders,  so  frequent  were  the 
crimes.  Alder  Gulch  continued  to  disgorge  its  treasures  in  a 
steady  stream,  and  the  very  excess  of  its  bounty  excited  the 
most  selfish  passions  of  men. 

Rude  courts  were  established  and  the  guilt  or  innocence  of 
offenders  was  submitted  to  regularly  chosen  juries,  but  the  swag- 


Col.  Sanders's  Pullman  car  to  Bannock  City — 1862 

gering  outlaws  woiild  boldly  force  their  way  through  the  lines 
of  spectators  into  the  presence  of  the  qualified  twelve  men, 
announcing  their  determination  to  have  revenge  upon  every 
one  connected  with  the  case  for  any  verdict  other  than  ac- 
quittal. Witnesses  and  jurors,  under  these  circumstances, 
were  afraid  for  their  lives,  and  justice  had  miscarried  until  the 
outlaws,  seeing  the  blanch  of  fear  everywhere,  were  in  supreme 
control.  In  the  early  stages  of  this  reign  of  terror  some  of  the 
road  agents  had  been  tried,  found  guilty,  and  condemned  to 
death  by  unanimous  vote,  but  before  the  hour  of  execution 
arrived  the  renegades  would  have  the  citizens  so  terrified  by 
threats  that  motions  to  reconsider  would  result  in  liberating 
the  outlaw  again. 

The  sheriff,  Henry  Plummer,  was  himself  at  the  head  of  one 
of  the  worst  gangs  in  the  Territory.  Plummer's  gang  was  the 
only  well-organized  band  of  men  in  the  community,  and  con- 


Colonel  Sanders  and  the  Vigilantes        103 

sisted  of  about  two  dozen  "bad  men"  and  a  large  number  of 
spies,  scouts,  and  outside  correspondents.  These  were  the  road 
agents  who  prompted  the  writers  of  dime  novels  to  do  their 
worst.  In  action  they  wore  black  silk  handkerchiefs  over  their 
faces,  and  their  secret  service  system  told  them  of  every 
expedition  worth  robbing. 

Individually  the  members  of  Plummer's  gang  were  mur- 
derers who  put  small  valuation  on  human  life.  They  killed 
for  vengeance,  or  even  for  "luck."  They  fired  at  women  to 
frighten  them,  and  killed  Indians  for  no  reason  except  pure 
wantonness.  Plummer  was  said  to  be  the  quickest  and 
surest  revolver  shot  in  the  mountains.  He  could  shoot  with 
either  hand,  and  according  to  report  could  draw  his  pistol 
and  empty  its  five  chambers  in  three  seconds,  making  every 
bullet  tell.  He  came  to  the  gold  camp  with  a  record  of  three 
murders  in  California  and  had  taken  part  in  an  attack  on  a 
Wells  Fargo  bullion  express. 

When  Sam  T.  Hauser,  late  Governor  of  the  Territory, 
started  east  with  a  load  of  treasure,  Plummer  gave  him  a  red 
woollen  scarf  to  protect  his  throat  from  chill.  The  red  scarf 
was  to  inform  Plummer's  men  that  the  wearer  was  the  victim 
they  awaited.  This  was  the  gang  that  engaged  the  atten- 
tion of  Colonel  Sanders,  and  the  movement  which  brought 
about  the  hanging  of  twenty- two  of  them,  including  Plummer. 
It  was  the  first  work  that  followed  the  formation  of  the 
Montana  Vigilantes,  of  which  Colonel  Sanders  was  the  active 
head. 

On  one  occasion  when  Colonel  Sanders  was  going  from  one 
town  to  another  he  had  to  spend  the  night  at  a  little  out-of-the- 
way  place  and  sleep  in  the  same  bed  with  George  Ives  who  was 
a  notorious  bandit.  He  was  out  looking  for  Ives  at  the  time,  but 
Ives  did  not  then  know  the  colonel  by  sight,  and  that  fact  was  all 
that  saved  a  tragedy  then  and  there.  In  the  few  months  preceding 
the  uprising  there  had  been  a  reign  of  terror  in  which  no  man 
felt  that  his  life  was  safe.  Ives  had  made  life  a  terror  in  Virginia 
City.  He  ordered  a  barber's  chair  to  be  taken  out  in  the  middle 
of  the  street,  and  with  a  revolver  in  each  hand  demanded  a 
shave;  when  the  tonsorial  work  was  done  he  drew  out  a  long 
knife,  and  with  two  dexterous  strokes  the  barber's  ears  dropped 
in  the  dusty  street.     "Just  for  luck"  as  Ives  said.     He  was  once 


I04         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

sent  to  buy  two  mules  from  a  German  named  Nicholas  Thalt, 
in  the  Stinkingwater  Valley — and  murdered  the  German  to 
save  paying  for  the  mules.  He  was  caught  redhanded  and  a 
crowd  of  citizens  dragged  him  to  Nevada  City.  Ives  did  n't 
worry  any  over  his  arrest,  but  this  time  the  miners  were  aroused 
and  sent  for  Colonel  Sanders. 

The  trial  took  place  in  the  open  air  before  a  huge  bonfire 
late  in  the  afternoon  of  December  21,  1863.     Citizens  came  from 


:^">  5. -■-«•• 'i^^?« 


Highwayman  waiting  for  his  prey 


miles  around  to  attend  the  trial.  The  judge  sat  in  a  wagon.  Col- 
onel Sanders  had  a  clear  case  against  Ives,  and  he  made  the  most 
of  every  bit  of  evidence.  The  jury,  which  was  composed  of  the 
better  element  of  miners,  found  the  prisoner  guilty  and  the 
prosecutor  moved  that  he  be  hanged  at  once.  Then  for  a  few 
minutes  it  was  a  question  whether  Sanders  or  Ives  would  be  the 
first  to  die.  In  the  crowd  were  many  friends  of  the  prisoner 
and  of  Plummer's  gang.  The  arrival  of  Plummer  with  a  rescuing 
gang  was  momentarily  expected,  and  part  of  the  mob  made  an 
attempt  at  rescue,  -but  it  was  repulsed.  A  pole  was  swung  out 
of  the  window  of  an  unfinished  house  near  by,  and  in  fifty- 
eight  minutes  after  he  was  convicted,  the  body  of  Ives  swung 


Colonel  Sanders  and  the  Vigilantes         105 

on  a  rope  from  the  end  of  the  pole.   That  was  the  beginning  of 
the  campaign  against  Henry  Plummer's  gang. 


"4 


Laughed  at  for  his  foolishness  and  shot  dead  by  Slade 


The  Vigilantes  were  made  up  of  five  men  in  Virginia  City, 
three  from  Bannock,  and  one  from  Nevada  City.  It  was  a 
secret  tribunal  which  worked  for  twenty  years.     In  less  than 


io6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

two  months  after  they  were  organized  they  had  hung  twenty- 
two  members  of  Plummer's  gang,  including  Plummer.  They 
never  bluffed,  and  when  any  one  found  a  little  white  card 
which  measured  just  seven  by  nine  inches,  bearing  the  numerals 
"3-7-77"  in  heavy  black  ink  pinned  to  his  tent  or  posted 
on  some  of  his  belongings,  he  knew  it  was  a  warning  to  get 
out  of  the  country,  or  the  second  night  thereafter  he  would  be 
hung. 

Probably  the  most  notorious  desperado,  next  to  Plummer, 
was  Blade;  perhaps  Blade  was  the  worst  of  the  two;  at  any  rate 
he  was  a  terror  to  the  people  in  all  localities.  Mark  Twain 
tells  in  Roughing  It  how  he  ate  at  the  same  table  with  Blade, 
at  the  latter 's  station  on  the  Overland  Mail  route  in  Wyoming, 
but  the  author  says  he  was  so  agitated  that  he  remembered 
nothing  of  Blade's  personal  appearance,  except  that  he  had  very 
high  cheek  bones.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  Blade  was  a  large,  well- 
made  man,  as  active  as  a  panther,  and  possessed  of  enormous 
strength.  He  was  skilled  equally  in  the  use  of  firearms  and 
in  rough  and  tumble  fighting,  and  he  enjoyed  one  form  of 
fighting  as  much  as  the  other. 

Blade  was  a  division  agent  on  the  Overland  at  Julesburg  in 
1862.  He  was  a  terror  of  the  most  dangerous  kind:  a  man  who 
would  resent  an  insult  or  affront,  either  real  or  imaginary,  on 
the  instant  if  he  could,  but  later  at  all  hazards.  His  vengeance 
was  most  atrocious,  and  ended  in  death  to  his  victim.  One 
of  his  first  acts  of  treachery  was  when  in  charge  of  an  emi- 
grant train  from  the  Missouri  River  to  California.  He  had 
trouble  with  one  of  his  wagon  drivers  and  drew  his  gun,  but  the 
driver  had  his  out  first,  and  Blade  knowing  himself  to  be  in 
danger  said  it  woiild  be  a  pity  to  shoot,  and  they  would  throw 
away  their  guns  and  fight  it  out  with  their  fists.  This  the  driver 
agreed  to  and  threw  down  his  gun,  only  to  be  laughed  at  for 
his  foolishness  and  shot  dead  by  Blade. 

He  was  made  agent  of  the  Overland  Company  because  of 
his  fearless  daring.  The  company  had  been  robbed  of  horses, 
and  its  coaches  had  been  held  up  repeatedly,  but  Blade  soon 
put  an  end  to  such  offenders  by  following  them  to  the  death. 
He  had  been  one  of  the  most  daring  highwaymen  of  them 
all  until  he  was  employed  to  clean  them  out,  and  he  moved 
on  west  as  places  required  such  settlements  as  he  was  wont 


Colonel  Sanders  and  the  Vigilantes        107 

to  make.  It  was  deemed  safer  by  the  company  to  keep  him 
in  their  employ  than  to  have  him  one  of  the  desperadoes  at 
large.  He  succeeded  in  stopping  depredations  on  stage  stock 
and  stage  company  belongings,  but  it  was  done  by  his  own 
bloodthirsty  violence.  He  was  his  own  judge,  jury,  and  exe- 
cutioner. It  was  a  work  that  delighted  his  soul  to  the  marrow. 
At  the  time  Mark  Twain  met  him,  Blade  was  said  to  have  killed 
no  less  than  thirty  men. 

It  was  at  this  time  that  Slade  had  his  celebrated  quarrel 
with  Jules.  Jules  was  the  founder  of  the  little  town  of  Jules- 
burg,  Colorado,  one  of  the  most  important  stopping  points 
on  the  Overland  trail,  near  the  junction  of  the  North  and  South 
Platte  Rivers.  He  and  Slade  had  a  quarrel  and  Jiiles  "laid 
for"  his  opponent,  posting  himself  behind  a  saloon  door,  with 
a  double-barrelled  shotgun.  As  the  unsuspecting  Slade  came 
in  the  door  Jules  emptied  both  barrels  into  his  body.  Slade 
fell,  literally  riddled  with  lead.  It  was  thought  he  had  no  chance 
to  live,  but,  after  weeks  of  suffering,  he  regained  his  health, 
and  started  gunning  for  his  enemy*  Jules  had  taken  the  alarm 
and  left  the  country.  He  remained  away  several  months,  but 
finally,  believing  he  could  best  Slade  if  they  should  meet  again, 
he  returned  to  his  old  haunts  along  the  Overland  Mail  route. 
Slade,  with  a  little  party  of  friends,  rode  out  and  captured  Jules. 
Then,  according  to  the  popular  version,  Slade  tied  Jules  to  a 
corral  fence  and  spent  the  day  in  target  practice,  shooting  off 
his  enemy's  fingers  and  ears  and  other  members  of  his  body, 
yet  not  killing  him  until  night,  in  spite  of  his  pleadings  to  be 
put  out  of  his  agony. 

Slade 's  record  as  a  killer  became  too  strong  for  the  com- 
pany to  stand.  Passengers  were  terrorized,  though,  as  has 
been  shown,  there  was  then  no  reason  for  any  passenger  to  fear 
Slade  because  his  thirst  for  battle  was  satisfied  by  fighting  those 
of  his  own  kind,  but  the  company  discharged  him,  and  Slade 
moved  to  Montana,  when  the  Virginia  City  excitement  was  at 
its  height. 

"Our  organization  was  the  simplest  thing  in  the  world," 
said  Colonel  Sanders.  "We  would  turn  to  one  of  our  members 
and  say:  'You  are  a  pretty  square  sort  of  fellow  and  we  know 
you  to  be  straight  as  a  string;  you  shall  be  our  judge.'  And  to 
another:  'You  are  a  heavily  built  chap  with  lots  of  grit;  you 


io8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

shall  be  marshal.'  I  was  district  attorney  because  I  had  a 
smattering  of  law,  and  it  was  upon  my  affidavits  that  all  warrants 
were  issued. 

"It  seems  strange  in  these  days  to  think  of  constituting  a 
court  in  such  an  offhand  way,  without  the  slightest  vestige  of 
federal  authority,  but  we  did  it,  and  our  court  was  respected 
by  all  the  citizens  of  Virginia  City,  that  is,  most  of  them.  After 
a  while,  when  they  found  that  we  were  not  hanging  so  fre- 
quently as  before,  the  lawless  element  seemed  bolder  and  more 
aggressive  again. 

"The  leader  of  this  tough  part  of  our  later  population  was- 
Slade.  He  had  a  dozen  satellites,  and  it  was  a  favorite  diversion 
of  theirs  to  spend  a  night  in  a  disorderly  resort,  and  then  set  it 
on  fire.  He  had  been  carrying  on  in  this  characteristic  manner, 
going  from  bad  to  worse.  It  is  related  of  him  that  his  favorite 
trick  was  to  go  into  a  barroom  and  ask  a  stranger  to  have  a 
drink.  The  stranger  would  comply,  and,  when  about  to  drink 
his  whiskey  would  be  knocked  insensible  by  a  terrific  blow  from 
Slade's  fist.  After  knocking  one  man  down  in  this  way,  Slade 
would  step  up  to  another  and  ask  him  to  have  a  drink,  and  the 
performance  would  be  repeated  as  long  as  there  remained  any- 
body in  the  room  to  be  knocked  down. 

"Slade  overstepped  the  mark,  however,  when  he  tore  up  a 
warrant  that  was  being  read  to  him  by  an  officer  of  the  law. 
Slade  had  shot  up  the  town  the  day  before  and  the  officer  was 
seeking  to  arrest  him  for  that  offence.  Still  drunk,  Slade  tore 
the  paper  to  pieces.  As  the  marshal  pulled  out  the  document, 
Slade,  quick  as  a  flash,  sprang  at  him,  jerked  it  out  of  his  hands, 
and  then  pointed  a  revolver  at  the  judge's  heart.  It  was  all 
done  in  a  second. 

"  '  Now, '  said  he,  '  I  'm  about  tired  of  this  business.  I  am 
not  going  to  be  drained  any  more,  and  I  am  not  going  to  recog- 
nize your  authority;  nor  shall  I  pay  that  $400.  I  shall  hold 
you  responsible  for  my  personal  safety,  and  if  any  of  your 
committee  attempts  to  touch  me  I  will  blow  your  heart  out.' 
The  officer  remained  calm  and  made  no  further  effort  to  arrest 
Slade,  but  the  news  spread  like  wildfire.  The  miners  held  a 
mass-meeting  and  decided  that  Slade  had  gone  too  far  in  thus 
flouting  the  newly  established  law  and  order  of  the  camp." 

As  Colonel  Sanders  left  the  court-room  after  this  scene  he 


Colonel  Sanders  and  the  Vigilantes        109 

met  a  member  of  the  Vigilantes  Committee  and  dispatched  him 
to  a  camp  about  two  miles  away  for  all  the  boys  to  come  in  for 
they  were  needed.  They  came  from  several  camps,  for  the  news 
spread  fast,  and  a  court  was  called  to  vote  on  what  should  be  done. 
Over  15,000  miners  voted  to  lynch  Slade,  according  to  the  vigi- 
lante process,  and  this  great  procession  marched  down  the  gulch, 
captured  the  desperado,  and  informed  him  that  his  time  was  up. 


"  The  old  stage-coach  rattled  over  the  great,  lonesome  highway  " 


Slade  weakened  when  he  saw  the  array  against  him  and  wept 
like  a  child,  but  his  hour  for  penitence  was  past,  the  noose  was 
slipped  around  his  neck,  the  barrel  kicked  from  under  his  feet, 
and  law  and  order  ruled  in  the  great  Northwest. 

Just  think  of  listening  to  all  these  talks  at  the  midnight 
hour  and  in  the  early  dawn  as  the  old  stage-coach  rattled  over 
the  great  lonesome  highway  miles  and  miles  from  human  habita- 
tion, and  talking  over  the  incidents  with  the  very  man  who  was 
the  fing-leader  of  the  law  and  order  court.  Think  of  the  awful 
hours  of  suspense  that  the  wife  endured  while  he  was  going 
about  the  towns  with  a  dozen  or  more  men  as  a  body-guard, 
while  some  of  these  exciting  things  were  being  enacted. 

It  was  little  wonder  that  he  had  wanted  to  be  present  at 
that  first  hanging  in  Virginia  City  which  was  the  result  of  a 
legally  arrayed  court  and  jury  according  to  the  law  of  our 
Federal  Government.     He  dropped  the  yoke  of  responsibility 


no         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

then,  and  the  lives  and  the  property  of  the  people  he  knew 
would  be  thenceforth  protected  through  the  proper  channels. 
But  what  a  great  brave  heart  and  soul  he  had  to  bring  order 
out  of  chaos,  peace  out  of  carnage,  and  happiness  from  the  great 
unrest.  He  has  been  an  honor  and  a  glory  to  his  country,  and 
Montana  should  give  him  a  monument  the  highest  in  its  realm. 

At  the  time  Colonel  Sanders  went  to  Bannock  City  it  was 
scarcely  more  than  a  spot  on  the  earth  and  was  still  in 
the  domain  of  Idaho,  but  in  1864  Congress  passed  an  act  pro- 
viding for  a  new  Territory  to  be  taken  from  Idaho,  to  be 
called  Montana,  and  also  that  a  part  of  southeastern  Idaho 
should  be  restored  to  Dakota.  Montana's  first  Legislature 
convened  in  Bannock  in  December  of  that  year.  Sidney  Edger- 
ton  was  the  first  Governor  and  Thomas  Francis  Meagher  was 
Territorial  Secretary,  with  George  M.  Pinney  as  United  States 
Marshal. 

One  of  the  first  acts  of  the  new  Legislature  was  the  repealing 
of  the  statutes  of  Idaho  and  adopting  common  law,  also  pro- 
viding the  codification  of  Territorial  laws.  The  Code  Commis- 
sioners were  Wilbur  F.  Sanders,  William  H.  Miller,  and  George 
W.  Stapleton.  A  common  school  system  was  adopted  and  an 
act  passed  making  it  a  misdemeanor  to  carry  concealed  weapons. 
The  vast  number  of  criminals  who  flooded  that  region  of  the 
country  paid  no  attention  to  the  law  of  the  courts,  and  the  need 
of  the  Vigilantes  Association  was  imperious,  but  with  all  the 
watchfulness  and  stern  rigor  of  the  few  members  of  the  law 
and  order  league  it  was  fifteen  years  before  a  man  was  hung 
by  the  neck  through  a  legal  court  of  action. 

Colonel  Sanders  had  ways  of  his  own  in  accomplishing  his 
ends.  He  never  wanted  to  be  thwarted  in  his  undertakings,  and 
many  good  stories  could  be  told  on  him.  He  called  on  us  in 
New  York  City,  when  he  was  United  States  Senator,  and  invited 
us  to  attend  the  theatre  and  see  the  play  of  Esmeralda  on  the  first 
double  stage  used  in  the  city.  We  were  sorry  to  decline  such 
a  courtesy,  but  an  old  Sioux  war  campaigner  was  to  call  that 
evening  to  talk  over  the  war  days,  and  subsequent  times. 
Pard  was  delighted  with  the  prospective  visit  and  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  ignore  it.  The  colonel  left  us  saying  he  would  come 
again  as  something  might  deter  the  caller,  and  he  still  might 
hope  for  us  to  go  with  him. 


Colonel  Sanders  and  the  Vigilantes        in 

The  first  guns  were  hardly  fired  on  the  old  war  path  of  the 
Sioux  trail  before  the  colonel  came  in  again.  He  sat  silent 
for  a  few  moments,  then  in  his  own  brusque  way  said:  "Say, 
stranger,  I  have  asked  these  good  folks  to  go  to  the  theatre  with 
me  to-night,  and  they  refused  because  you  were  coming;  now, 
can't  you  come  some  other  time?  They  don't  come  to  New 
York  often  and  they  ought  to  be  out  every  night. " 

The  episode  was  as  surprising  as  it  was  humiliating,  yet  it 
was  characteristic  of  his  blunt  way  of  carrying  a  point. 

At  another  time  when  railroads  were  finished  through  Helena 
we  stopped  there  for  a  few  hours  in  passing  through  Montana, 
and  when  Pard  went  up  to  see  Colonel  Sanders  he  found  court  was 
in  session.  The  colonel,  who  was  trying  a  case,  saw  Pard  enter 
the  court-room.  He  jumped  to  his  feet  and  said:  "Your  Honor, 
Bob  Strahorn  is  in  the  court-room,  and  we  all  want  to  see  him; 
I  move  this  court  be  adjourned  for  about  fifteen  minutes,"  and 
it  was. 

When  Colonel  Wilbur  Sanders  died,  in  1906,  Montana  lost 
its  brightest  star,  its  great  war-horse,  and  the  bravest  man 
that  ever  gave  his  life  to  his  State.  One  forgets  the  eccen- 
tricities of  such  a  man  in  his  achievements,  and  the  whole 
Northwest  mourns  his  loss  as  irreparable. 


CHAPTER   IX 

DIAMOND  CITY   AND   HOT  SULPHUR  SPRINGS 

'E  were  having  a  real  cozy  time  in  our  easy 
chairs  by  a  warm  bright  fire  in  the  Cosmo- 
politan Hotel  in  Helena,  commenting  upon 
the  events  of  the  day,  and  tracing  an 
outline  for  future  travel,  when  the  poetry 
was  all  taken  out  of  our  souls  by  the 
report  that  our  stage  for  White  Sulphur 
Springs  would  leave  at  four  o'clock  the 
next  morning.  Then  we  tried  to  sleep, 
but  when  we  need  sleep  it  is  often  the 
hardest  to  obtain.  However,  we  were 
ready  on  time,  and  for  once  be  it  known 
the  stage  was  punctual  to  a  minute. 

These  springs  are  located  some  eighty  miles  southeast  of 
Helena  and  were  then  the  best  improved  springs  in  the  Territory. 
Any  one  who  is  familiar  with  Montana  knows  it  to  be  rich  in 
mineral  fountains  of  rare  merit,  in  whose  waters  many  an 
invalid  has  found  welcome  healing  properties. 

The  soft  red  light  of  morning  began  to  illumine  the  eastern 
sky,  and  the  sun  shamed  away  the  frost  before  we  were  hardly 
awake  to  the  knowledge  of  our  speed.  Twenty  miles  from 
Helena  the  Missouri  impertinently  crossed  our  pathway,  and 
with  my  slow  wits  I  did  not  see  how  we  were  to  cross.  The 
driver  whistled  away  as  unconcerned  as  possible  and  drove  on  a 
little  pier  that  extended  a  short  distance  over  the  water;  but  the 
little  pier  proved  to  be  a  ferry  and  we  were  soon  adrift,  kept  in 
position  by  ropes  and  cables;  the  ferry  turned  so  that  the  cur- 
rent struck  the  stem,  and  we  were  soon  pushed  by  its  force  to 
the  other  side  in  safety.  Scarcely  a  ripple  betrayed  the  swift- 
ness underneath.  We  had  a  two  hours'  wait  at  the  river  so  we 
procured  a  boat  and  launched  out  for  a  morning  sail.     It  was 

112 


Diamond  City  and  Hot  Sulphur  Springs    113 

like  meeting  an  old  friend  to  see  the  grand  old  Missouri  River 
again.  The  water  at  the  place  where  we  crossed  was  some 
forty  feet  deep,  and  clear  as  crystal.  Our  spirits  rose  as  we  ad- 
vanced, and  every  glad  song  of  early  days  that  could  be  recalled 
was  sent  up  to  the  blue  vaulted  sky,  while  peal  after  peal  of  our 


Twenty  miles  from  Helena  the  Missouri  impertinently 
crossed  our  pathway  " 


joyous  laughter  went  echoing  along  the  moss-covered  rocks  which 
rose  hundreds  of  feet  on  either  side.  It  seemed  almost  impossible 
that  we  could  be  in  the  heart  of  Montana,  so  far,  far  away  from 
the  Illinois  home,  and  yet  enjoy  so  many  happy  days. 

The  first  village  reached  on  this  trip  was  Diamond  City, 
which  was  once  one  of  the  most  thriving  towns  in  Montana. 
It  was  located  at  the  head  of  Confederate  Gulch,  which  had 


114         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

yielded  so  richly  of  precious  metal.  In  1865  over  a  million  and 
a  half  of  the  yellow  dollars  were  washed  out  of  that  gulch  between 
Diamond  and  Virginia  City,  and  one  pan  yielded  one  thousand  dol- 
lars, which  fact  was  wholly  without  precedent.  Miners  were  still 
at  work  throughout  the  gulch  and  made  good  wages.  Diamond 
City  once  stood  on  stilts  as  the  dirt  was  all  dug  from  under  the 
buildings  by  the  seekers  for  gold,  but  at  this  time  the  houses  stood 
on  ground  again  as  the  vacancy  had  been  filled  in  by  tailings  from 
the  mines  above.  Confederate  Gulch  derived  its  name  from 
a  part  of  that  left  wing  of  Price's  army  which  took  refuge  there 
after  the  Civil  War.  That  noted  "left  wing"  divided  itself  and 
part  went  to  Montana  and  part  to  Idaho,  and  it  did  not  require 
much  knowledge  of  human  nature  to  pick  out  its  members. 

Diamond  City  was  the  county  seat  of  Meagher  County;  a 
dozen  years  before  its  population  numbered  several  thousand, 
but  in  1878  it  had  only  about  three  hundred.  The  restless  surg- 
ing mass  had  moved  on  to  other  fields  for  gold  and  left  only  a  few 
late  but  earnest  workers  still  washing  out  the  sands.  The 
Rocky  Mountain  Husbandman  was  a  spirited  sheet  published 
in  the  interest  of  all  that  the  name  implies. 

Above  Diamond  City  we  observed  the  syphon  wonder  of  boiler 
iron  pipes.  It  led  the  water  down  the  mountainside  hundreds  of 
feet  and  up  the  opposite  side  nearly  an  equal  distance,  from 
whence  in  ribboned  ditches  it  skirted  the  mountains  and  poured 
down  upon  the  gold  diggings  wherever  needed. 

The  hotel  was  a  miniature  one  kept  by  a  jolly  Irishman  by 
the  name  of  Nixon.  It  consisted  of  just  three  rooms ;  the  sitting 
room  was  about  ten  by  twelve  feet  and  contained  a  bed  and 
table  and  a  few  chairs.  The  kitchen  and  dining-room  was  also 
a  combination  about  the  same  size,  and  the  second  half  story 
was  one  room  containing  a  number  of  beds.  Adjoining  this 
building  was  along,  narrow  lean-to  used  for  a  store,  hotel  office, 
and  post-office. 

Pard  had  been  in  the  office  but  a  few  minutes  when  a  man  of 
dishevelled  appearance  rushed  into  the  room  where  I  was  wait- 
ing for  supper.  He  came  to  me  with  both  hands  outstretched, 
as  if  he  would  embrace  me,  and  all  the  time  exclaiming  how  glad 
he  was  to  see  me;  he  grabbed  both  my  hands  as  in  a  vise  and 
great  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks.  I  had  not  recovered  from 
my  surprise  and  fear  when  he  explained  his  joy  at  seeing  one 


Diamond  City  and  Hot  Sulphur  Springs  115 

from  his  own  home,  and  that  one  the  daughter  of  their  dear  old 
family  doctor,  dear  old  Doc.  Green,  who  had  saved  the  lives  of  so 
many  of  his  family  in  his  earlier  days.  The  sturdy  pioneer  had 
been  in  Diamond  City  a  number  of  years,  and  mine  was  the  first 
home  face  he  had  seen  since  leaving  his  native  place.  He  said  it 
was  "a  joy  like  the  meetin'  of  his  own  sister  or  mother  whom 
he  left  in  1866,"  and  his  big  Irish  face  beamed  with  a  smile  that 
would  not  lessen  while  we  were  there,  and  all  he  could  give  was 
free  as  air,  from  his  smile  to  his  hospitable  board  and  the  con- 


The  arrival  of  the  stage  is  the  event  of  the  day 


tents  of  his  store.  That  I  did  not  know  him  made  no  difference. 
I  knew  well  enough  the  section  of  country  near  my  home  town 
called  "The  Island"  which  was  wholly  an  Irish  settlement,  and 
I  was  his  "old  Doc's  gurrel,"  which  was  enough  to  make  him 
glad  and  happy.  When  we  bade  him  good-bye  he  loaded  us 
with  such  good  things  as  his  little  store  had  in  stock  and  the 
principal  edible  was  dried  buffalo  and  deer  meat. 

When  we  left  Diamond  City  we  turned  from  the  main  road  to 
visit  Hell  Gate  Canyon.  It  would  seem  as  if  that  name  pos- 
sessed some  magic  power  over  these  Rocky  Mountain  people,  for 
so  many  defiles  and  fastnesses  are  favored  with  that  suggestive 


1 16         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

title.  We  could  form  no  idea  of  the  awful  grandeur  of  this 
place  until  quite  within  its  portals.  High  on  the  right  was  a 
dark  ominous  hole,  a  seeming  ingress  to  a  cave.  This  was 
known  as  the  Devil's  watch  tower.  It  is  said  that  once  a  moun- 
tain hermit  lived  within  its  black  shadows.  A  few  shreds  of  old 
rope  still  hung  from  the  dizzy  peak  above,  and  from  the  mouth 
of  the  cave  protruded  a  decayed  log  on  which  the  hermit  used 
to  light  in  his  wild  descent  to  his  home  in  the  cliff.  We  could  not 
see  why  the  road  should  wind  its  way  along  so  confidently  for  an 
impenetrable  wall  loomed  up  before  us,  but  the  babbling  brook 
called  us  to  search  for  its  source,  so  we  drove  on.  We  were  sur- 
rounded by  high  walls  and  confined  in  a  space  thirty  yards  in 
width  by  sixty  in  length.  Another  short  turn  to  the  left  be- 
tween these  towering  dykes  revealed  what  before  had  seemed  an 
unbroken  wall  now  rent  from  base  to  summit  leaving  a  narrow 
gateway  but  seven  feet  wide,  and  the  entire  space  filled  with  a 
bridge  affording  just  room  to  drive  through. 

We  passed  into  another  grotto  of  equal  size  ornamented  with 
pines  and  picturesque  needle  rocks.  The  rugged  walls  were 
covered  with  vines  and  rock-birthed  plants  robed  in  richest 
autumnal  garb.  There  were  four  of  these  rocky  openings,  not 
exceeding  the  first  in  width,  and  every  one  leading  to  new  laby- 
rinths of  wonders.  The  left  hand  wall  of  the  second  entrance 
showed  as  plainly  the  face  of  a  man  as  if  chiselled  by  an  artist. 
The  chin  rested  upon  the  bridge  but  the  forehead  towered  high 
above.  Hieroglyphics  of  some  wild  race  were  traced  on  one  of 
the  mountainsides,  and  holes  and  endless  caves  for  mountain 
beasts  and  birds  were  found  on  every  side.  Often  near  the  sum- 
mit would  be  seen  full  grown  pines  struggling  to  reach  the  snowy 
lofts,  but  below  all  was  barren,  stern,  and  forbidding. 

It  seemed  strange  how  the  scene  changed  into  a  wooded  gulch 
after  leaving  the  last  enclosure.  How  thankful  we  were  for  the 
far  sun  to  lighten  such  glories  all  around  us.  The  more  we  saw  of 
the  finite  the  more  we  bowed  before  the  infinite  Creator  in  thank- 
fulness that  we  lived  to  see  so  many  wondrous  works  of  His  Hand. 

Hot  Sulphur  Springs  was  reached  late  in  the  evening  and 
we  hastened  to  rest  until  the  morning  threw  the  sunlight  over 
our  tired  dreams  and  signalled  us  to  rise.  The  warm  fire  cheerily 
blazing  made  us  forget  how  near  winter  was  again.  The  hotel 
was  a  new  one.     Brussels  carpeting  covered  the  floor;  a  rich 


Diamond  City  and  Hot  Sulphur  Springs  117 

beaver  robe  was  thrown  in  graceful  negligence  over  a  low  armed 
rocker  by  the  window;  snowy  curtains,  a  good  bed,  and  writing 
tables  made  our  room  one  of  great  comfort.  One  hundred 
guests  could  readily  be  accommodated  by  Mr.  Spencer,  the  genial 
host  from  the  Sunny  South.  The  dining-room  and  kitchen 
were  in  a  separate  building  in  true  Southern  style. 

There  were  several  stores  in  the  town,  a  post-office,  saloon, 
and  many  little  cottages.  A  strong  odor  of  sulphur  filled  the  air, 
and  we  were  led  by  it  to  the  springs.  At  least  fifteen  of  these 
hot  springs  came  boiling  from  the  earth,  while  within  a  stone's 
throw  were  springs  as  cold  as  mountain  streams.  The  hot  steam 
poured  from  the  windows  of  the  plunge  and  single  bathrooms, 
and  after  once  bathing  we  had  an  intense  desire  to  try  them  again 
and  again. 

Many  remarkable  cures  have  been  effected  by  these  waters, 
and  the  resident  physician  and  owner  of  the  springs,  Dr.  Par- 
berry,  is  himself  a  living  proof  of  their  cure  for  rheumatism. 
Hon.  James  G.  Blaine,  had  been  a  half  owner  of  this  resort,  but 
was  unfortunately  induced  to  dispose  of  his  share  to  the  present 
owner.  There  were  120  grains  of  medicated  matter  in  every 
gallon  of  water.  A  large  amount  of  slimy  matter  collects  in  the 
bottom  of  these  springs,  and  when  this  is  taken  out  and  dried  it 
looks  like  thin  sheets  of  sulphur  and  will  burn  brilliantly.  This 
famous  resort  is  located  between  the  two  forks  of  Smith  River, 
both  branches  of  which  are  filled  with  trout. 

Smith  Valley  is  really  the  home  of  the  shepherd.  Ranch 
after  ranch  dotted  the  hillsides  and  plains,  while  thousands  of 
sheep  were  feeding  on  the  rich  grass.  We  saw  some  fine  Cots- 
wold  sheep  that  weighed  300  pounds  each.  C.  W.  Cook  and 
brother  located  in  1873  with  800  Oregon  sheep  and  after  five 
years  they  had  15,000. 

Mr.  Cook  once  had  a  tenderfoot  apply  for  sheepherding,  and 
as  he  seemed  a  likely  lad  a  task  was  at  once  assigned  him.  He 
was  fresh  from  college  and  boasted  of  his  athletic  ability  so 
much  that  he  refused  a  horse  to  care  for  the  flock  in  his  charge, 
although  he  was  warned  to  allow  no  lambs  to  stray  from  the 
fold.  Night  came  on,  the  bell  wether  came  in  leading  the  woolly 
flock,  but  the  tall  wiry  boy  came  not.  Several  hours  passed, 
when  anxiety  for  his  safety  started  a  searching  party  to  the 
rescue.    Hardly  were  the  ponies  saddled  when  the  new  boy 


ii8        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

loomed  up  in  the  mellow  starlight  carrying  a  jack-rabbit  on 
either  arm.  Out  of  breath,  tired  and  footsore,  he  told  of  his 
chase  and  final  capture  of  the  runaway  lambs.  He  was  ridi- 
culed and  laughed  at  until  Mr.  Cook  put  an  end  to  the  persecu- 
tion by  challenging  any  one  of  the  crew  to  match  the  race  and 
bring  in  another  pair  of  jack-rabbits  unharmed  and  with  whole 
skins,  as  these  had  been. 

A  good  story  of  western  pluck  is  told  of  Q.  O.  Proctor,  now 
located  about  a  mile  from  the  springs.  Three  years  previous 
he  did  not  have  a  dollar.    He,  therefore,  rented  twenty  cows; 


"  It  measured  upward  of  nine  feet  from  the  nose  to  the  tip  of  the  tail " 

from  the  milk  of  these  cows  he  began  the  manufacture  of  cheese ; 
he  was  soon  enabled  to  buy  the  stock  and  add  more;  his  busi- 
ness steadily  increased;  in  1878  he  had  300  head  of  cattle  and 
had  made  10,000  pounds  of  cheese  which  he  readily  sold  for 
twenty  cents  a  pound.  His  buildings,  vats,  presses,  fixtures, 
etc.,  were  of  the  most  improved  plans,  and  he  kept  everything  as 
neat  and  clean  as  a  dainty  matron's  kitchen. 

Rich  gold,  silver,  and  copper  leads  had  been  discovered  near 
the  springs  and  were  to  be  extensively  worked  as  soon  as  the 
requisite  machinery  could  be  obtained. 

This  lovely  resort  is  environed  with  blue  mountains  that 
abounded  in  small  as  well  as  royal  game.     Every  sportsman  was 


Diamond  City  and  Hot  Sulphur  Springs  119 

gladdened  by  seeing  the  fine  fresh  game  which  he  brought  back, 
served  a  la  mode,  on  the  table  at  the  hotel. 

Dr.  Parberry  and  Pard  spent  a  day  in  hunting  deer.  It  was 
on  the  19th  of  September,  our  first  wedding  anniversary,  and  I 
was  on  the  down  end  of  the  teeter  board  of  spirits  that  day,  but 
when  they  came  home  with  several  saddles  of  venison  hanging 
on  their  ponies,  I  forgave  the  trespass  of  the  day  and  joined  in 
congratulations  over  their  success. 

A  monster  mountain  lion  had  recently  been  killed  near  the 
White  Sulphur  Springs,  and  our  new  found  friend,  Dr.  Parberry, 
presented  it  to  Pard  who  shipped  it  at  once  to  Thomas  L.  Kim- 
ball, General  Manager  of  the  Union  Pacific  road,  where  it  was 
to  be  mounted  and  kept  at  the  headquarters  of  the  company. 
This  royal  beast  is  one  of  the  largest  of  its  species  ever  shot  in 
Montana.  Its  weight  was  312  pounds,  and  carefully  skinned  and 
stuffed  it  measured  upwards  of  nine  feet  from  the  nose  to  the 
tip  of  the  tail.  It  is  a  trophy  of  the  lion  tribe  that  can  nowhere 
be  excelled  in  America. 

White  Sulphur  Springs  has  never  had  a  railroad  intrude  into 
its  secluded  eyrie,  but  has  been  reached  up  to  the  present  time 
by  the  tri- weekly  stage  from  Helena,  but  a  $2,000,000  syndicate 
has  now  begun  operations  to  open  up  the  medicinal  waters  to  the 
world  and  make  it  the  most  popular  resort  in  America.  Work 
is  being  pushed  on  a  rail  line  to  make  it  accessible  as  soon  as  the 
Grand  Hotel  can  be  completed.  It  is  to  have  a  line  from  Dorsey 
on  the  new  Milwaukee  route,  and  the  Helena  Glendive  cut-off  of 
the  Northern  Pacific  will  also  go  to  this  famous  resort.  The 
sleeping  populace  of  White  Sulphur  Springs  has  awakened  to 
magical  energy  and  excitement  over  this  crowning  reward  for 
their  patient  waiting  of  a  third  of  a  century. 


CHAPTER   X 


THE   VALLEY   OF  THE   WILD  ROSE,    DEER   LODGE, 
AND    MISSOULA 

'^^^^^^'^^^^^^^^.jmmr^M.    \   SEPTEMBER 

ride  from  Helena 
to  Deer  Lodge 
and  on  to  Mis- 
soula in  the  late 
'70's  was  a  trip 
that  idealized 
stage  travel  and 
made  one  forget  the  lack  of  civilization  in  a  labyrinth  of  wild 
roses  and  clear  running  waters. 

The  old  Concord  coach  was  loaded  inside  and  out  and  still 
there  were  some  gloomy  and  disappointed  ones  unable  to  find  a 
place  to  even  hang  on  as  the  crack  of  the  whip  spurred  the  fiery 
bronchos  into  an  irregular  wild  plunge  and  a  dash  through  the 
streets  out  of  the  city  to  the  great  Overland  road  westward. 

It  is  always  an  interesting  part  of  travel  to  settle  back  in 
one's  own  corner  and  study  the  faces  of  the  fellow  passengers. 
It  matters  little  whether  it  be  on  a  train,  a  steamer,  or  a  stage- 
coach, there  is  generally  variety  enough  to  make  the  effort 
entertaining. 

The  morning  load  was  especially  engaging.  There  was  one 
woman  with  a  young  babe  going  to  join  her  husband  who  had 
found  a  new  home  for  them  in  this  far-away  country.  Her  bags 
and  baskets  took  the  room  of  two  people  and  were  piled  on  the 
laps  of  any  who  would  hold  them.  There  was  another  woman 
going  with  her  brother  to  file  a  homestead  on  virgin  lands,  and 
still  a  third  woman  en  route  from  Missouri  to  visit  an  uncle  a 
hundred  miles  beyond  Missoula,  where  thirty  miles  of  the  way 
was  still  only  a  trail. 

She  was  going  to  revolutionize  some  things.  She  did  not 
understand  why  people  out  there  did  not  say  "road"  instead  of 

120 


From  Helena  to  Deer  Lodge  and  Missoula    121 

"trail"  and  "horse"  for  "cayuse"  and  "jacks"  for  "mules," 
etc.  She  was  quite  chagrined  to  learn  that  a  trail  was  not  a 
road,  a  cayuse  was  not  an  American  horse,  and  the  poor  little 
jack  was  a  jack  or  burro  and  not  a  mule  at  all. 

People  who  come  West  to  teach  ignorant  people  usually  find 
that  they  bring  more  ignorance  with  them  than  they  are  able  to 
dispel.  Every  part  of  a  country  has  conditions  of  its  own  re- 
quiring words  and  expressions  that  are  peculiar  to  itself,  and 
inseparable  from  the  locality  where  used. 

In  later  experiences  we  found  more  real  ignorance  in  the  very 
heart  of  Boston  than  was  ever  met  with  on  the  frontier.  People 
living  in  such  far-away  places  are  expected  to  be  lacking  in  ways 
of  the  world,  but  we  seldom  found  them  so,  and  the  dailies 
of  San  Francisco  and  the  old  Salt  Lake  Tribune  were  found 
with  half  a  dozen  or  more  popular  magazines  in  many  cabins. 
The  people  were  posted  on  the  topics  of  the  day  to  wondrous 
wide  extent  and  new  arrivals  were  quizzed  with  a  zeal  unknown 
to  those  more  favored  with  privileges  to  learn.  There  were  ex- 
ceptions it  is  true,  but  those  seeking  knowledge  were  in  the 
majority. 

The  old  McBurney  House  of  Deer  Lodge,  kept  by  Ayles- 
worth  &  McFarland,  was  a  neat  two-story  brick  house,  with  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  ever  floating  above  it,  proving  the  loyalty  and 
love  of  the  country's  flag  by  the  genial  proprietors  of  this  hostelry. 

It  was  a  good  rest  to  crawl  out  of  the  coach  in  which  we  had 
been  so  densely  wedged  and  stretch  our  cramped  muscles  and 
take  a  stroll  about  town  before  enjoying  a  good  supper.  Then 
the  load  was  made  up  again  for  an  all  night  ride.  Some  of  the 
passengers  had  reached  the  end  of  their  journey,  making  less  dis- 
comfort for  those  who  must  move  on,  but  there  were  a  couple  of 
new  ones. 

A  night  in  an  overcrowded  coach  is  never  a  joy  to  be  antici- 
pated, but  it  is  a  deal  of  discomfort  to  be  avoided.  Just  as  one 
loses  himself  in  a  moment's  drowsiness  the  wheels  either  fall 
into  a  chuck-hole  that  will  send  one  pawing  air  for  something  to 
grapple,  or  if  the  wheels  strike  a  rock  in  the  roadway  it  will 
stagger  the  whole  coach  and  give  such  a  lurching  as  will  throw 
one's  head  nearly  off  the  shoulders.  Then  some  one  gets  cramps 
and  every  one  must  readjust  a  position  to  accommodate  the 
peculiarity  of  that  knotting  muscle.     As  the  night  progresses 


122         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

and  nearly  every  one  is  overcome  with  the  stupor  of  fatigue 
some  one  becomes  reminiscent  and  wants  to  tell  a  life  history 
that  should  have  been  closed  before  that  trip  began.  No  one 
wants  to  hear  it,  yet  no  one  has  the  courage  or  discourtesy  to 
say  so,  and  the  narrator  croons  on  until  he  has  added  to  the 
record  all  the  chestnut  stories  of  a  tenderfoot,  and  he  himself  has 
fallen  to  the  foot  of  the  ladder  as  an  entertainer.  We  had  one 
such  who  also  related  such  thrilling  Indian  tales  of  massacres  in 
that  very  canyon  through  which  we  were  passing,  that  we  fully 
expected  some  revenge  to  be  taken  on  oiir  own  stage  load  of 
people  by  the  watchful  Indians. 


One  of  the  many  fords 

But  mornings  have  a  way  of  coming  around  about  once  in 
so  often  and  so  it  came  again  at  last,  shedding  a  rich  glow  over 
the  mountain  tops  and  revealing  through  the  dissolving  night 
the  beauteous  landscape  along  some  of  the  head  waters  of  the 
Columbia  River. 

From  Deer  Lodge  to  Missoula  we  forded  the  Deer  Lodge 
River  seven  times  and  crossed  it  twice  on  bridges.  It  was  a 
veritable  Lovers*  Lane  leading  through  bowers  of  wild  roses; 
oftentimes  the  rose  bushes  arched  over  the  stage  road  and  joined 
their  blooms  in  a  wealth  of  beauty  and  untrammelled  luxuriance, 
filling  the  air  with  their  fragrance  and  our  hearts  with  admiration 


I 


From  Helena  to  Deer  Lodge  and  Missoula    123 

and  joy.     It  was  an  expanse  of  earth  set  apart  for  wild  growth, 
not  only  of  flowers  but  of  wild  berries  and  wild  animals. 


"  That  damn  thing  ahead  of  us  is  a  bear  " 

From  the  seat  with  the  driver  there  were  views  of  long 
avenues  ahead  and  most  too  often  the  glinting  water  in  the  dis- 
tance betokened  another  fording  of  the  river.     Though  clear  as 


124         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

crystal  it  was  deep  and  swift  and  when  the  leaders  of  our  four- 
horse  team  reluctantly  made  the  leap  down  the  bank  it  always 
sent  creepers  up  my  spine.  The  water  grew  deeper  at  every  cross- 
ing from  the  many  lateral  feeders  of  canyon  springs,  and  my 
breath  stopped  and  choked  just  a  little  higher  in  the  throat,  as  I 
leaned  forward  with  contracted  muscles  as  if  it  helped  the  horses 
drag  the  burden  over  the  rocky  river  bed. 

Grand  old  pine  trees,  tall  and  stately,  were  gathered  in 
forests  on  either  side,  with  the  ground  beneath  free  of  under- 
brush except  for  the  rose  and  berry  bushes  in  the  more  sunny 
openings  near  the  streams.  It  was  like  one  grand,  continuous 
park,  with  the  half  dead  pines  covered  with  an  inch  of  green 
moss,  hiding  all  marks  of  death's  decay. 

A  dark  moving  object  ahead  of  us  in  the  open  roadway  sud- 
denly appeared  in  full  view  and  the  jehu  pulled  in  the  reins  to  get 
a  steady  look  ahead.  Then  he  exclaimed  with  a  strong  oath  that 
"that  damn  thing  ahead  of  us  is  a  bear."  He  called  to  the  pas- 
sengers to  get  their  shooting  irons  ready  for  there  might  be  trouble 
ahead.  Those  inside  thought  of  the  dreaded  Indian,  and  were 
greatly  relieved  to  know  it  was  only  a  bear  that  caused  the  call  to 
arms.  The  horses  reared  and  plunged  from  instinctive  fear  and 
we  gained  only  a  little  on  the  king  of  the  American  wilds. 

The  driver  lashed  the  poor  brutes  into  a  chase  until  there 
was  grave  fear  that  they  would  wheel  suddenly  backward  and 
cause  a  serious  accident.  But  the  bear  reached  the  river  first, 
and  by  the  time  the  stage  reached  the  ford  old  Bruin  was  lift- 
ing his  head  out  of  the  water  away  down  on  the  opposite  bank, 
where  he  emerged  and  shook  his  shaggy  coat  and  scrambled  into 
the  brush. 

It  was  the  only  spirited  event  of  the  trip,  and  early  in  the 
afternoon  we  were  in  the  great  Montana  garden  of  the  Hell  Gate 
River.  It  seemed  a  curious  name  to  give  to  such  a  beautiful 
stream,  but  it  comes  from  the  black  and  intricate  passage 
through  the  rocky  pass  of  the  same  name  near  Missoula. 

Missoula  was  not  of  enough  importance  to  have  a  place  on 
the  map,  but  it  was  a  productive  section  that  has  since  made 
itself  known  to  the  world.  Peaches,  pears,  and  melons — my, 
how  good  they  were  after  a  long  famine  of  such  luxuries ! 

Here  Miss  Libban  met  her  uncle,  who  was  overjoyed  to  see 
her,  and  at  once  began  bestowing  gifts  upon  her.     He  kept  up  a 


From  Helena  to  Deer  Lodge  and  Missoula    125 

continuous  flow  of  questions  regarding  her  wants  and  wishes 
as  he  explained  the  necessary  trip  on  horseback.  The  best 
horse  he  could  buy  was  there  with  a  good  saddle,  and  some  one 
engaged  to  make  a  riding  habit  while  she  rested  a  day  or  two 
from  her  journey.  He  brought  a  supply  of  sweets  and  fruits, 
and  every  time  he  showed  his  genial  face  he  wanted  to  buy  a  new 
hat,  a  new  dress,  or  gloves,  or  something,  and  so  it  was  until  they 
were  started  off.  He  was  a  man  well  known  in  Missoula,  and 
one  whose  chief  delight  was  in  doing  gracious  things  to  make 
others  happy.  His  generosity  toward  his  niece  was  not  a  spasm 
of  goodness,  but  as  his  friends  said,  "It  was  always  his  way." 
He  was  a  man  of  wealth'  and  spent  it  freely  when  he  thought  he 
could  do  good.  His  niece  was  the  first  relative  whom  he  had 
seen  in  many  years,  and  the  dear  old  man  was  beside  himself 
with  joy. 

The  drives  about  Missoula  were  of  intense  interest  because 
of  nature's  repose  being  yet  undisturbed.  The  town  was  indeed 
a  frontier  village  with  only  a  few  hundred  people,  and  old  French 
Town  was  made  up  of  Indians  on  the  alert  for  a  new-comer 
who  might  be  a  prospective  buyer  of  buffalo  robes  or  other 
pelts  which  they  had  in  stock. 

French  Town  was  but  a  few  miles  out  from  Missoula  and  it 
was  near  there  that  I  went  right  into  an  Indian  camp.  It  had 
seemed  to  me  that  filth  and  bad  ways  of  living  reached  the  limit 
of  human  ignorance  at  some  of  the  stage  stations,  but  this 
Indian  camp  was  a  prize  winner.  In  Mexico  and  Italy  it  is 
a  common  sight  to  see  friends  doing  the  "work  of  love"  in  pick- 
ing creepers  from  each  others'  heads  and  throwing  them  out 
without  taking  the  trouble  to  kill  them.  But  these  Indians 
were  not  so  wasteful,  and  as  fast  as  the  hand  could  work  it  plied 
between  the  head  and  the  mouth,  and  the  fat  luscious  creepers 
were  eaten  with  a  relish  of  true  appreciation.  We  carried  away 
for  a  paltry  four  dollars  as  fine  a  buffalo  robe  as  ever  came  to 
market.  It  was  nearly  black,  fine,  silky,  and  curly,  such  as  we  see 
no  more,  but  it  was  kept  in  the  open  air  and  combed  and  brushed 
and  fumigated  for  a  week  before  allowing  it  in  close  contact. 

The  little  incidents  from  the  lives  of  the  people  who  have 
so  courageously  built  up  a  remote  settlement  were  always  most 
interesting  to  me,  and  I  was  ever  eager  to  listen  to  the  strange 
experiences. 


126         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  editor  of  the  Missoulian,  which  by  the  way  was  as 
creditable  a  sheet  as  cotild  be  pubHshed  without  dispatches,  was 
driving  about  town  with  us  one  day  when  he  called  our  attention 
to  an  attractive  little  vine-covered  cottage  and  to  a  less  pre- 
tentious one  close  by.  He  said,  "  There  's  romance  for  you  under 
those  roofs ;  one  is  rose-clad  on  the  outside,  and  the  other  is  rose- 
clad  on  the  inside.  This  man  with  the  vines  had  started  a  cor- 
respondence with  a  girl  back  East,  and  the  letters  must  have  been 
pretty  good  on  both  sides,  for  she  decided  to  come  out  here  and 
marry  him,  and  he,  therefore,  sent  her  the  money  to  defray  her 
expenses.  He  built  his  house  with  all  possible  speed,  but  when 
the  time  came  near  to  drive  to  Fort  Benton  to  meet  her  his 
house  was  not  finished,  so  he  bought  a  team  and  carriage  and 
sent  a  friend  of  his  after  her  while  he  remained  to  garnish  and 
trim  and  make  ready  the  new  home.  It  was  three  hundred 
miles  to  Fort  Benton  from  Missoula,  and  the  anxious  lover 
counted  the  days  and  worked  with  a  will. 

"The  messenger  was  on  hand  when  the  old  river  boat  came 
steaming  to  the  Fort  Benton  landing  bearing  its  precious  charge, 
who  was  soon  singled  out  from  the  small  number  of  passengers. 
He  explained  to  her  how  glad  he  was  that  she  had  come,  in  fact 
he  was  so  pleased  with  her  that  he  forgot  to  say  that  he  was  not 
her  lover  but  only  a  messenger  to  carry  her  to  her  new  home. 
She  had  never  seen  her  lover  and  why  need  she  know  that  he  was 
not  the  man.  He  went  on  with  his  own  lovemaking  with  such 
good  results  that  they  were  married  before  they  left  Fort  Benton, 
and  now  they  live  out  there  with  the  'clingin'  vine'  inside  not 
a  stone's  throw  away  from  the  man  whose  wife  she  was  to  be. 
The  philosophic  bachelor  thinks  he  was  mighty  lucky  to  get 
his  team  back.  He  keeps  an  immaculate  house,  and  the  girl  may 
sometime  repent  at  leisure  her  hasty  marriage." 


CHAPTER  XI 


THE  BACHELOR'S  SURPRISE  AT  THE  HEAD  OF  BITTER  ROOT 

VALLEY 

ITTER   Root  Valley,  like  Hell  Gate 
Valley,  is  one  of  the  garden  spots 
in  Montana.     Its  name  comes  from 
the  bitter  roots  that  grow  abund- 
antly there  and  were  much  sought 
,        by  the  Indians  for  medicinal  pvu- 
P    \       poses  and  for  concocting  drinks. 
»^>/'<^:  -       rjy-^^  nvev  of  the  same  name  is  the 
purest,  clearest  stream  we  had  yet 
found.     It  flowed  swiftly  and  mag- 
Kc^  nified  its  rocky  bed  so  that  at    a 

depth  of  four  or  five  feet  the  stones  were  more  clearly  seen  than 
the  ones  on  the  bank.  Trout  were  plenty,  and  so  large  that 
our  angler  wiggled  about  and  threatened  to  hold  up  the  coach 
while  he  landed  some  of  the  speckled  beauties.  Weeping  willows 
hung  low  over  the  waters  and  down  the  wooded  banks  under 
the  sheltering  branches  were  many  trails  of  wild  animals  in 
search  of  water. 

Leaving  Missoula  we  crossed  the  Hell  Gate  River,  then 
mounted  to  the  bench  land,  losing  sight  quickly  of  the  little  town 
in  the  basin.  Two  miles  out  we  passed  the  military  barracks 
and  then  speeded  on  up  the  valley.  To  one  raised  in  the  Mis- 
sissippi Valley  it  was  a  funny  thing  to  say  up  south  and  down 
north.  The  valley  varies  from  six  to  ten  miles  in  width  and  is 
sixty  miles  in  length.  The  "jerky"  stage  made  tri- weekly 
trips  carrying  mail  and  other  commodities  and  an  occasional 
passenger.  It  was  expected  soon  to  have  the  road  opened  to 
Bannock  City  and  then  regular  freight  traffic  would  open  up  and 
give  the  farmers  a  choice  of  two  ways  to  ship  out  their  products. 
This  valley  was  indeed  a  wheatfield  and  orchard.  One 
farmer  had  io6  bushels  of  wheat  from  one  and  three  fourths 
acres  of  larnd.     Another  had  820  pounds  of  tobacco  from  one 

127 


128         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

eighth  of  an  acre.  Still  another  served  us  with  fresh  ripe  straw- 
berries. We  could  scarcely  believe  our  eyes  when  we  saw  the 
bed  from  which  they  were  produced.  But  there  were  the  berries 
in  spite  of  the  heavy  frosts  which  had  nightly  occurred  for  some 
time.  The  owner  informed  us  that  the  berries  were  the  richest 
in  November,  although  the  vines  bore  fruit  from  early  summer. 


Copyright  by  Lee  Moorhouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon 

"On  the  opposite  shore  the  jailers'  tepees  were  pitched" 


He  also  had  the  early  varieties  in  abundance.  This  fact  re- 
minds me  that  a  Mr.  Curtis,  of  Helena,  raised  15,000  quarts  of 
strawberries  the  summer  of  1877,  which  he  sold  for  fifty  cents  a 
quart. 

We  drove  off  the  main  road  to  shake  the  limb  of  a  stalwart 
tree  to  which  Peter  Matt  was  hung  for  horse-stealing  by  the 
Montana  Vigilantes.  It  meant  another  star  in  the  crown  of 
Colonel  Sanders  in  ridding  the  country  of  criminal  and  lawless 
control. 

In  crossing  one  of  the  tributaries  of  the  Bitter  Root  River 
called  Lo-Lo  we  found  the  water  impeded  by  a  network  of  wil- 
low slips  that  were  buried  in  the  bed  of  the  river  and  rose  about 
a  foot  above  the  water's  surface.    This  proved  to  be  a  trap  made 


The  Surprise  at  Bitter  Root  Valley        129 

by  the  Indians  for  catching  fish,  and  the  trap  in  which  the  little 
fellows  were  struggling  for  freedom  was  quite  a  prominent  feature 
as  well  as  an  ingenious  puzzle.  .  On  the  opposite  shore  the  jailers* 
tepees  were  pitched,  and  the  keepers  watched  with  fiendish  de- 
light the  vain  efforts  of  their  finny  prisoners  to  escape.  But 
the  strange  appearance  of  the  Indians  frightened  our  horses  and 
made  them  canter  off  at  a  lively  speed.  I  really  believe  horses 
are  afraid  of  Indians  because  of  the  odor  of  wild  animals  about 
them  rather  than  the  appearance  of  the  Indians  themselves. 

Along  the  route  we  conversed  with  one  Mrs.  Carlton  who  had 
seven  little  children.  She  did  her  own  housework  and  sewing, 
took  care  of  her  children,  made  forty  pounds  of  butter  per  week, 
and  sold  it  for  fifty  cents  per  pound ;  she  also  cared  for  two  hundred 
fine  Brahma  chickens,  and  helped  to  milk  twenty-five  cows.  Mr. 
Carlton  was  a  steady,  industrious  ranchman  and  stock-raiser. 
The  first  question  that  always  entered  my  mind  when  I  saw  such 
people  was:  How  came  you  here?  But  it  was  nearly  always 
the  desire  for  wealth  and  it  was  not  uncommon  to  learn  that  the 
people  had  lived  where  we  found  them  for  several  years,  and  they 
were  well,  healthy,  and  happy. 

We  crossed  the  river  and  rode  for  a  short  distance  along  the 
side  of  the  valley  when  the  home  of  E.  W.  Bass  was  pointed 
out  to  us.  Mr.  Bass  and  his  brother  came  from  Missouri 
without  means  and  secured  a  homestead  from  which  they  had 
become  the  richest  men  in  the  valley.  The  mountains  rose 
high  on  three  sides  of  the  home  as  if  to  shield  the  dwelling  from 
the  storm-king  or  other  dangers  which  might  beseige  it.  Tall 
cottonwoods  followed  the  walk  outside  the  tidy  picket  fence, 
and  over  the  arched  gateway  a  thrifty  ivy  had  coiled  in  graceful 
confusion.  The  gravelled  walk  leading  to  the  large  two  story 
house  was  bordered  with  trellised  vines  and  roses.  To  the  left, 
on  a  high  pedestal,  stood  a  solid  granite  ball  as  symmetrical  as 
if  chiselled  by  an  artist.  The  ball  weighed  ninety  pounds  and 
was  about  fourteen  inches  in  diameter.  It  was  found  in  a  canyon 
near  the  premises  in  a  whirlpool  of  water,  where  it  had  been 
ground  to  its  perfect  form.  To  the  right  a  pair  of  elk  horns 
were  posed  as  if  still  in  proud  defiance  of  the  hunter's  skill. 
Suspended  from  a  staunch  limb  of  an  old  elm  tree  a  large  swing 
made  a  tempting  place  to  enjoy  the  shade  and  indulge  in  day 
dreams,  or  read  the  day  dreams  of  others.     Through  the  arbor, 


I30         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

covered  with  dense  foliage,  the  path  led  to  the  flower  garden 
where  almost  every  variety  of  flowers  known  to  grow  in  the 
country  were  found.  The  beds  were  bordered  with  verbenas  of 
every  shade;  rich  velvety  pansies  with  their  upturned  faces 
gave  a  mute  appeal  for  approval,  while  roses,  geraniums,  and 
mignonette  filled  the  air  with  their  sweet  fragrance.  Of  course, 
special  care  had  been  used  to  keep  that  thieving  Jack  Frost  from 
too  early  robbing  them  of  their  beauty.  A  clear  stream  went 
singing  through  the  lawn  and  formed  a  picturesque  waterfall 
that  gave  an  effect  that  was  simply  magical. 

The  veranda  was  inviting,  with  its  easy  chairs  and  wood- 
bine shade,  but  we  passed  on  indoors  where  conditions  were 
equally  charming.  The  piano  stood  open  in  the  parlor.  The  pet 
cat  was  quietly  sleeping  on  a  wolf  rug  before  the  grate  dreaming 
of  cold  winter's  comforts.  A  sewing  machine,  scroll  saw,  more 
flowers,  choice  pictures,  and  a  rich  profusion  of  books,  papers 
and  popular  magazines  were  still  fiu^ther  emblems  of  the  educa- 
tion and  refinement  of  the  occupants.  The  large  bird  cage  with 
its  happy  family  was  quite  an  amusing  novelty.  It  contained 
several  gay  canaries,  with  a  southern  redbird  in  proud  command, 
which  seemed  to  understand  his  responsible  position,  and 
chattered  away  as  if  the  yellow  songsters  were  contemplating 
disobedience  to  his  orders.  The  storeroom  was  filled  with  rich 
preserves  and  jellies  tempting  to  behold,  the  milkroom  with  pans 
of  milk  and  thick  cream,  and  the  churn  was  running  by  a  water- 
power  that  kept  the  dairy  cool  and  sweet. 

On  every  hand  were  tokens  of  the  conveniences  and  comforts 
of  a  happy  home  that  we  did  not  expect  to  find  in  a  valley  seven 
hundred  or  more  miles  from  the  nearest  railroad.  I  still  have  a 
rose  and  a  few  verbenas  that  were  picked  on  that  September 
day  of  1878,  holding  much  of  their  original  coloring.  The 
color  was  preserved  by  bleaching  them  in  sulphur  fumes  before 
they  were  pressed,  then  when  they  were  exposed  to  the  air  again 
and  placed  under  a  glass  in  a  frame  their  natural  color  returned 
and  remained. 

Across  the  road  the  fruit  trees  were  braced  to  sustain  their 
loads  of  apples,  pears,  and  plums,  and  we  heartily  enjoyed  some 
luscious  melons.  There  were  vegetables  to  be  taken  to  the 
Territorial  Fair  at  Helena:  soHd  potatoes  that  weighed  two 
pounds  apiece,  and  a  squash  that  weighed  over  a  hundred  pounds. 


The  Surprise  at  Bitter  Root  Valley        131 

We  reluctantly  turned  from  this  little  paradise,  with  its  hospit- 
able inhabitants,  and  continued  the  journey  through  that  ever 
surprising  valley. 

Thirty  miles  from  Missoula  was  old  Fort  Owen,  built  in 
1850  in  peculiar  shape  and  irregular  enough  to  command  a  view 
of  all  surroundings.  The  low  walls  massively  built  of  stone  were 
dotted  on  all  sides  with  rifle  holes.  Indians  would  give  such  re- 
treats a  wide  berth  for  the  advantage  was  with  the  man  on  the 
inside,  and  an  Indian  never  fights  unless  he  has  the  best  of  his 
adversary.     A  family  occupied  a  portion  of  the  ruins  and  they 


.  i ._.    v..__ 

iP^ 

^^ipP 

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'UPHHI 

,^m^^ 

L 

A 

^^H 

^^m*~- 

b 

fwf'flpii^ 

^^^^ 

"'^«>4i.^ 

■""•■•"Mb: 

■■•,'h     r- 

.,  Jl^l 

"  We  roamed  among  them  for  a  while  and  found  them  filthy  and  indolent 
in  the  extreme  " 

looked  more  like  prisoners  peering  out  from  behind  the  great 
walls  than  like  free  people.  Near  the  fort  was  an  old  mill 
erected  in  185 1  by  Father  McValley,  who  made  his  own  burrs 
and  run  them  by  hand  power  with  only  a  capacity  of  one  and  a 
half  bushels  per  hour. 

A  mile  or  two  beyond  was  the  town  of  Stevensville  with  but 
a  few  stores  and  a  hotel  and  post-office.  It  was  here  that  an 
Indian  Mission  was  located  in  1847.  The  priest  said  the  Indians 
were  very  good  while  at  the  Mission,  but  when  they  returned 
from  a  hunt  they  had  everything  to  learn  over,  even  their 
prayers.    About  six  hundred  Flathead  ' '  non- treaties ' '  were  estab- 


132         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Hshed  in  their  tepees  there,  under  the  direction  of  Chief  Shiloh. 
They  were  unwilHng  to  give  up  the  valley  and  had  thus  far  re- 
fused any  treaty  offered  them  by  our  Government.  Land  was 
surveyed  again  in  1878  and  offered  them,  but  they  would  not 
take  it.  We  roamed  among  them  for  a  while  and  found  them 
filthy  and  indolent  in  the  extreme.  I  addressed  an  old  squaw 
who  hung  her  head  almost  to  the  ground  and  remained  in  that 
position,  making  stealthy  signs  to  a  papoose  until  another  squaw 
appeared.  They  wore  scarcely  any  clothing.  To  live  a  prisoner 
among  such  people  would  be  intolerable ;  yet  they  claim  that  their 
tribe  never  killed  a  white  man. 

The  Bannock  war  of  1878,  which  had  caused  our  delay  in 
crossing  Idaho,  was  not  alone  a  Bannock  war,  but  it  was  a  final 
attempt  to  unite  all  the  warlike  Indians  and  to  totally  annihilate 
every  man,  woman,  and  child  of  the  white  race  on  the  Overland 
Route  through  to  the  coast.  It  was  only  by  strategic  and  united 
work  of  the  whites  and  some  friendly  Indians  that  the  worst 
massacre  of  the  age  was  averted. 

A  few  miles  beyond  Stevensville  was  Fort  Skedaddle,  built  of 
sod  the  summer  before  when  an  invasion  by  the  Nez  Perces  was 
hourly  expected,  and  men,  women,  and  children  were  promiscu- 
ously huddled  within  the  enclosure.  It  was  a  most  appropriate 
name,  for  the  people  of  the  valley  skedaddled  to  it  in  a  hurry. 
When  that  band  did  pass  up  the  valley  they  were  two  weeks  in 
making  the  trip,  but  their  chief  said  he  would  kill  the  first  warrior 
who  committed  a  depredation  on  life  or  property,  so  nothing 
was  harmed. 

All  along  our  drive  rich  fields  of  grain  were  being  cut,  stacked, 
or  threshed.  Winter  wheat  was  equally  as  great  a  success  as 
spring  wheat.  Oats  were  yielding  from  sixty  to  eighty-five 
bushels  per  acre.  Every  one  was  charmed  with  this  quiet,  pro- 
ductive valley,  and  it  was  the  first  place  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
where  we  had  heard  the  cheery  voice  of  the  meadow  lark.  We 
stopped  for  the  night  at  the  upper  end  of  the  valley  in  just  the 
neatest  bachelor  quarters  you  can  imagine.  He  bade  us  welcome 
if  we  could  live  as  he  did  and  we  were  delighted.  We  were  not 
expected  nor  did  he  usually  keep  travellers,  but  the  room  assigned 
us  was  in  perfect  order,  and  the  snowy  bed  and  gracefully  draped 
curtains  lent  a  bewitching  charm  to  the  scene.  He  declined  all 
offers  of  assistance  in  preparing  the  evening  meal,  but  soon 


The  Surprise  at  Bitter  Root  Valley        133 

spread  before  us  a  sumptuous  repast  that  excelled  many  a  fairer 
hand.  He  was  as  happy  as  a  lord  and  wanted  to  live  five  hun- 
dred years  just  as  he  was,  and  then  die  on  the  spot.  His  living- 
room  adjoined  his  little  store,  and  was  attractive  for  its  orderly 
arrangement  and  neatness. 

With  all  his  tidy  housekeeping  and  capability  in  his  own 
kitchen  Peter  M' Quirk  was  not  at  all  effeminate,  but  a  manly 
fellow  of  fine  mind;  a  knightly  gentleman  of  education,  but  a 
voluntary  recluse,  who  had  his  own  views  of  life  and  his  own 
reasons  for  his  bachelorhood. 

As  darkness  settled  around  us  and  the  stars  crept  slowly 
out,  we  were  called  to  witness  a  grand  sight.  Away  over  on  the 
mountainside  some  stray  Indian  had  set  fire  to  the  mountain 
grass.  The  red  blaze  ran  in  crazy  lines  from  base  to  summit,  now 
around,  then  over  and  across,  silently  eating  away  the  verdure 
for  the  year.  Indians  say  it  only  makes  the  grass  richer  an- 
other year.  The  sight  beggared  description.  For  miles  and  miles 
the  bright  glare  was  followed  over  the  brow  of  mountains  be- 
yond, and  as  we  were  watching  the  beautiful  lights,  through  the 
mazy  curtains,  from  our  pillows,  our  tired  eyes  closed  in  sleep, 
while  our  spirits  chased  on  over  the  hills  in  the  fitful  glow,  and 
mingled  fires  and  flowers  and  bachelors  and  homey  scenes  in 
orchards  and  dusty  highways  in  a  strangely  conglomerated  dream 
until  a  new  day  dawned. 

Seemingly  isolated  as  this  valley  was  it  has  become  almost 
an  empire  within  itself.  Many  notable  Eastern  people  have  built 
fine  summer  homes  among  the  orchards  and  gardens  of  plenty. 
Marcus  Daly  erected  a  fine  hotel  in  mid- valley,  a  few  years  ago, 
which  is  now  being  replaced  by  a  $300,000  structure  and  equip- 
ment for  an  all-year-round  resort. 

Missoula  was  a  stage  drive  of  thirty  hours  from  Helena,  and 
then  it  was  another  long  day's  drive  to  the  head  of  Bitter  Root 
Valley.  From  Missoula  we  had  hoped  to  go  on  through  the 
mountains  to  Spokane  Falls,  which  was  only  two  hundred  miles 
to  the  west,  but  the  country  that  lay  between  was  still  an  un- 
opened wilderness,  making  it  necessary  to  go  back  through 
southern  Idaho  and  make  a  circuit  of  1500  miles  by  stage  via 
Walla  Walla. 


CHAPTER   XII 
TO  FORT  BENTON  AND  GREAT  FALLS  OF  THE  MISSOURI 

T  is  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  from 
Helena  to  old  Fort 
Benton,  and  owing 
to  competing  stage 
lines  the  through  fare  was  but  eight  dollars.  Of  course,  we 
adhered  to  the  Salisbury  line,  which  had  tendered  us  so  many 
favors,  and  from  which  nothing  but  a  railroad  could  divorce  us. 
We  left  Helena  early  in  the  morning  and  spent  the  forenoon 
in  passing  through  the  noted  Prickly  Pear  Canyon.  The  rich 
shades  of  autumn  were  constantly  adding  fresh  attractions  to 
the  siirrounding  country,  and  nothing  else  could  so  grandly 
illumine  the  general  landscape.  Eighteen  miles  of  this  canyon 
road  was  built  at  a  cost  of  $50,000,  and  in  early  days  the  toll 
was  not  less  than  eight  dollars  for  single  teams.  But  the  cost 
had  gradually  grown  less  until  it  had  reached  the  nominal  sum 
of  twenty-five  cents.  The  picturesque  Prickly  Pear  River  winds 
around  in  many  curves  as  it  rushes  in  its  mad  course  down 
this  mountain  hallway. 

The  "Shreckhorn"  of  the  Rockies  towered  high  and  we 
fancied  we  could  hear  echoes  of  the  Indian's  fiendish  yell  rever- 
berating from  peak  to  peak  of  the  craggy  range.  The  rocky 
formation  of  slate  made  a  lovely  gray  background  for  the  deep 
scarlet  and  brown  vines  and  mosses  that  filled  every  crevice. 
Standing  out  clear  and  bold  was  one  solitary  mountain  of  lime- 
stone. It  threw  up  its  hoary  head  in  stately  independence  of 
its  darker  companions,  and  had  no  kindred  for  many  miles. 

Often  there  was  scarcely  room  for  the  coach  to  pass  between 
the  abrupt  wall  on  one  side  and  the  precipitous  descent  to  the 
river  upon  the  other.  Every  little  while  I  held  my  breath  and 
shut  my  eyes,  fearing  the  next  instant  we  would  be  hurled  be- 
low, then  anon  the  road  would  widen  and  with  easy  heart  I 

134 


Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  135 


gazed  in  ardent  admiration  on  the  water-chiselled  rocks.  Mid- 
way in  the  canyon  was  a  park  just  large  enough  for  a  home- 
like ranch  where  the  ranchman  said  he  raised  a  thousand  bushels 
of  potatoes  from  two  acres  of  land,  and  his  oat  yield  was  eighty- 
five  bushels  per  acre. 

Sun  River  Valley,  midway  between  Helena  and  Fort  Ben- 
ton, is  a  large  area  taking  in  extensive  grazing  lands  and  hay 
lands  along  the  river's  winding  way,  and  is  one  of  the  finest 
stock-raising  sections  of  Montana.     The  stage  made  its  usual 


1 

B«Ri 

^Pl 

f^^^^; 

u 

mi 

1 

A  round-up  on  Sun  River 


stop  for  mail  and  passengers  at  the  village  of  Sun  River.  The 
night  was  a  bitterly  cold  one,  and  being  the  only  passengers, 
the  thoughtful  driver  had  showed  us  how  to  fold  back  some  of 
the  seats  and  make  a  fairly  comfortable  bed  with  blankets, 
buffalo  robes,  and  cushions,  on  the  bottom  of  the  coach. 

We  were  just  fairly  settled  to  the  lumbering  jolts,  and 
drowsily  lapsing  into  a  sense  of  forgetfulness,  when  there  was  a 
tugging  at  the  straps  of  the  canvas  door,  and  a  cheery  voice 
called  out  to  know  if  there  was  room  for  another  passenger  in- 
side. The  question  was  too  graciously  asked  to  receive  a  rough 
answer,  and  with  as  gentle  response  as  possible  we  resumed  the 
sitting  posture,  and  had  seats  properly  adjusted  that  others 
might  be  accommodated. 

There  was  but  one  newcomer,  however.  The  man  with  the 
cheery  voice  was  none  other  than  Mr.  Robert  Vaughn,  one  of  the 
cattle  kings  of  Montana,  who  proved  an  interesting  companion 


136         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

and  gave  much  information  about  the  great  business  in  which 
he  was  engaged.  Before  we  parted  he  made  the  offer  of  caring  for 
as  many  head  of  stock  as  we  would  buy,  and  his  pay  would  be 
one  half  the  increase.  We  figured  out  a  fortune  in  an  incredibly 
short  time,  but  just  lacked  the  means  to  buy  the  first  herd  to 
start  on,  a  circumstance  that  has  kept  many  a  man  from  making 
a  fortune. 

Twenty-five  miles  south  of  Benton  the  Highwood  Mountain 
streams  are  alive  with  trout.  It  is  called  the  happy  fishing 
grounds  of  the  north;  no  sooner  does  the  hook  drop  under  the 


Ruins  of  Fort  Benton  at  the  oldest  town  in  the  State 

surface   than   it  is  eagerly   sought  by  the   hungry   fish.     The 
twenty-four  hours  spent  there  were  delightful. 

Until  1850  Fort  Benton  was  called  Fort  Lewis.  The  first 
steamer  which  succeeded  in  reaching  Benton  was  the  Chippewa, 
in  June,  1859.  The  old  fort  was  all  there  was  of  Benton  at  that 
time,  and  it  was  only  twelve  years  since  it  had  been  deemed  safe 
for  a  white  man  to  be  seen  outside  the  old  stone  walls.  One 
long  business  street  now  faced  the  levee  upon  which  tons  and  tons 
of  freight  stood  waiting  to  be  shipped  inland  to  numerous  points 
throughout  the  Territory.  The  river  winds  as  crookedly  as  ever 
between  its  rocky  banks  and  on  through  an  open  meadow  land 


r 


Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  137 

of  golden  pasturage.  No  grain  or  produce  of  any  kind  was  raised 
around  this  head  of  navigation.  Now  and  then  a  timid  tree 
that  had  been  brought  from  its  far-away  home,  tried  to  live, 
but  it  made  feeble  success. 

The  old  fort  which  was  a  great  object  of  interest  was  built 
as  early  as  1836,  and  was  in  a  dilapidated  condition.  A  minia- 
ture buffalo  poised  on  the  tip  of  a  weather-vane  was  literally 
riddled  with  bullets.  We  halted  in  the  court  and  looked  around 
at  its  tumble-down  apartments.  The  birthplace  of  Miss  Nellie 
Clark  was  pointed  out  as  being  one  of  the  brightest  rooms. 
Miss  Nellie  was  a  half-breed,  but  since  early  childhood  she  had 
received  kindnesses  from  all  who  knew  her.  She  had  been  a 
thorough  student  in  Eastern  colleges,  and  was  then  a  respected 
teacher  in  the  Helena  public  school.  She  was  playing  chess  at  a 
ranch  one  day  with  her  father,  when  they  were  attacked  by 
the  Indians  and  she  saw  her  father  and  brother  shot  down  by  her 
mother's  people.  She  often  said  it  was  a  mistake  to  take  her 
from  her  mother's  people  and  educate  her,  for  she  was  so  often 
made  to  feel  the  bitterness  of  being  but  half  white  that  there 
were  times  when  she  could  scarcely  endure  and  live. 

The  town  of  Benton  is  the  oldest  in  the  State.  The  old 
court-house  and  schoolhouse  were  under  one  roof,  and  wore  a 
forbidding  exterior.  So  little  care  was  taken  of  the  buildings  a 
few  years  since  that  the  cows  walked  in  one  stormy  night  and 
devoured  many  valuable  papers.  A  new  brick  schoolhouse  was 
being  built  on  the  little  hill  overlooking  the  river,  in  which  apart- 
ments were  reserved  for  court  sessions. 

It  is  strange  how  many  people  there  were  in  this  wide  western 
country.  From  Fort  Benton  one  might  travel  four  hundred 
miles  north,  away  in  the  British  possessions,  and  every  night 
find  a  white  man's  cabin  with  a  welcome  to  a  night's  rest. 
A  day's  travel  may  not  seem  near  to  a  neighbor,  but  there  was 
little  that  could  make  the  heart  more  glad  than  curling  smoke 
from  a  cabin  looming  on  the  horizon  at  the  close  of  a  toilsome 
day  without  having  a  living  thing  in  sight. 

The  Stars  and  Stripes  floated  in  the  breeze  over  the  U.  S. 
Custom-House.  All  bonded  goods  passed  through  the  hands  of 
the  agent  at  Benton  and  were  examined  before  going  farther. 
Benton  had  then  about  six  hundred  inhabitants,  but  the  num- 
ber was  rapidly  increasing.     Two  years  before  there  were  not 


138         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

more  than  twenty  white  ladies  in  the  town,  but  in  '78  they 
numbered  seventy.  This  little  village  had  sent  $600  to  the 
suffering  South  during  the  cholera  epidemic  which  was  an 
average  of  one  dollar  for  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the 
corporation. 

We  went  aboard  the  steamer  MacLeod^  whose  freight  was 
being  carried  ashore,  and  where  preparations  for  a  new  departure 
were  being  made.  The  captain  hoped  to  make  two  trips  from 
Bismarck  to  Benton  that  fall  before  the  river  froze  over.  It  was 
a  charming  ride  to  the  Teton  River,  six  miles  west  of  Benton, 
and  there  was  afforded  a  glimpse  of  the  Bear  Paw  Mountains, 
where  during  the  gold  excitement  and  the  stampede  the  previous 
spring  a  number  of  miners  were  killed  by  Indians.  These  gold 
diggings,  however,  were  on  the  Indian  Reservation,  and  the  in- 
truders must  have  expected  trouble.  No  man,  whatsoever  his 
color,  will  allow  his  home  to  be  pillaged  without  resenting  the 
intrusion.  There  is  a  wild  fascination  hanging  over  a  miner's 
life,  and  he  will  follow  the  lead  of  the  glimmering  metal  into  any- 
one's domain  and  face  any  danger. 

We  were  indebted  to  the  princely  generosity  of  Benton's 
business  king,  William  H.  Todd,  for  many  courtesies  while  we 
were  in  Benton,  and  for  a  delightful  trip  to  the  Missouri  Falls. 
Mrs.  Todd  came  a  pioneer  from  a  home  of  southern  luxury. 
She  had  a  merry  way  of  telling  of  her  trials,  as  if  they  were  of  no 
moment,  yet  which  many  wotild  recognize  as  monumental.  She 
had  never  made  a  bed,  never  built  a  kitchen  fire,  or  been  taught 
any  of  the  ways  of  housekeeping  or  cooking,  but,  she  added, 
with  a  merry  laugh,  "I  had  one  prize  that  I  guarded  very  care- 
fully, and  that  was  a  recipe  for  making  coffee."  She  said  she 
learned  all  she  knew  about  housekeeping  from  her  husband, 
who  had  been  a  most  indulgent  and  successful  teacher,  and  she 
had  indeed  become  a  perfect  little  matron. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Todd  accompanied  us  on  the  novel  excursion  to 
the  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri,  and  provided  everything  neces- 
sary for  convenience  and  comfort  in  camp,  and  ample  protection 
against  storms.  We  left  Benton  about  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon,  leaving  our  best  wishes  for  its  prosperity,  and  sin- 
cerely congratulating  the  travelling  public  on  the  prospect  of  a 
new  brick  hotel,  which  would  afford  better  accommodations 
than  were  possible  to  obtain  then. 


Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  139 


We  drove  back  on  the  Helena  stage  road  about  twenty-eight 
miles  to  the  home  of  a  rancher  and  stockman  named  Kelly. 
It  was  the  only  house  within  twenty-five  miles  in  any  direction, 
and  his  genial,  wholesouled  nature  gave  every  one  such  a  wel- 
come that  it  was  helpful  to  forget  the  distance  to  any  other 
place,  and  especially  to  one's  own  far-away  home. 

We  spent  the  night  at  the  Kelly  Cold  Spring  ranch,  and 
during  the  early  evening  sat  out  of  doors,  looked  over  the  topog- 
raphy of  the  country,  and  gathered  directions  for  the  drive  to 
the  falls  the  following  day.  A  Httle  lull  came  in  the  conversa- 
tion, and  in  the  quiet  moment  a  beautiful  black  and  white 
animal  came  running  around  the  corner  of  the  house;  whether  it 


Street  scene  along  Missouri  River  at  Fort  Benton 

was  a  young  puppy  or  a  big  cat  could  not  be  told  in  the  dim 
light,  but  I  was  about  to  try  to  pick  it  up  in  my  arms,  when  I 
heard  a  deep  stentorian  tone  of  command  from  somewhere  not  to 
move  a  muscle. 

The  animal  ran  around  under  our  chairs  and  about  our  feet 
with  the  greatest  freedom.  It  seemed  as  if  the  cold  chills  running 
down  my  back  would  freeze  me.  When  it  scampered  away,  we 
made  a  rush  for  the  door,  and  every  one  expressed  gratitude  at 
his  escape,  and  laughed  to  think  how  near  we  came  to  being 
ostracized  from  polite  society.  Mr.  Kelly  said  those  animals 
were  very  numerous,  but  by  being  careful  not  to  scare  them  they 
were  spared  annoyance. 

I  have  had  Indian  relics  from  which  the  Indian  scent  could 
not  be  eliminated,  but  that  animal  was  something  that  would 
give  a  stronger  scent  than  the  Indian  smoke. 


140         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

We  started  early  in  the  morning,  with  instructions  how  to 
cut  across  that  trackless  waste  of  tall  grass  amid  the  coulees  of 
the  Missouri  River  to  the  Great  Falls.  It  was  the  intention  to 
make  the  trip  and  return  that  night.  There  was  no  wagon 
road  or  trail  to  follow,  but  Mr.  Kelly  said  we  could  not  miss 
the  way.  There  are  four  falls  within  ten  or  twelve  miles: 
the  Great  Falls,  ninety  feet  high;  the  Crooked  Falls,  nineteen 
feet  high,  while  the  Rainbow  Falls  gracefully  glide  over  a  curve 
and  down  a  perpendicular  of  fifty  feet,  and  still  farther  up  the 


Indians  of  the  upper  Missouri 

river  are  falls  of  twenty-six  feet.  The  Great  Falls  were  but 
fourteen  miles  from  Mr.  Kelly's,  as  the  crow  flies,  but  we  did 
not  hit  that  trail.  The  country  was  dotted  with  little  silvery 
lakes,  and  we  travelled  among  them  for  hours  but  found  no  falls. 
The  river  banks  were  a  succession  of  precipices  and  deep  coulees 
which  we  followed  again  and  again  without  success.  We  did, 
however,  find  a  trail  that  carried  us  ten  miles  out  of  the  way 
and  brought  us  at  last  to  see  all  the  other  falls  before  the  great 
ones. 

We  found  ourselves  once  at  the  mouth  of  Sun  River,  and 
three  miles  below  we  saw  the  Black  Eagle  Falls.  On  an  island 
just  below  them  stands  an  old  tree,  containing  an  historic  eagle's 
nest  from  which  the  falls  are  named.     Between  these  and  the 


Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  141 

Rainbow  Falls  is  a  spring  remarkable  for  being  the  largest  ever 
known.  It  boils  up  underneath  the  rocks  and  has  a  volume 
equal  to  the  Sun  River,  which  at  its  mouth  is  one  hundred  and 
thirty-five  yards  wide,  with  an  average  depth  of  four  feet.  The 
spring  water  is  perfectly  clear,  and  of  a  bluish  tint.  Even  after 
it  falls  into  the  Missouri  in  full,  deep  cascades  it  retains  its  orig- 
inal purity  for  more  than  half  a  mile,  when  it  is  at  last  lost  in 
the  vast  volume  of  the  river's  murky  flood. 

The  Rainbow  Falls  excited  intense  admiration;  it  made  a 
semicircle  across  the  entire  stream  three  hundred  yards  wide, 
in  one  unbroken  sheet  of  foam,  while  the  sunshine  glistened 
through  the  spray  in  an  intoxicating  display  of  rainbow  color- 
ings. Only  a  hundred  rods  below  the  Rainbow  Falls  we  came 
upon  the  Crooked  Falls,  nineteen  feet  perpendicular,  the 
whole  face  of  which  is  nearly  a  mile  in  length.  It  forms  almost 
a  circle,  and  then  the  precipice  over  which  the  water  leaps 
suddenly  turns  at  an  obtuse  angle  to  the  right. 

Thinking  that  we  would  return  to  these  falls  and  see  them 
again  the  next  day  we  decided  to  go  on  six  miles  below  and  camp 
at  the  Great  Falls.  But  alas  for  human  hopes !  We  rode  many 
weary  miles  and  could  not  even  hear  the  falls.  Frequently 
Pard  would  sprint  down  a  coulee,  where  we  could  not  drive,  to 
listen  for  the  roar  that  did  not  roar.  Once  he  ran  into  a  whole 
college  of  rattlesnakes  sunning  themselves  on  the  warm  hill- 
side; he  did  not  see  them  until,  in  his  haste,  he  sent  one  spinning 
down  the  hill,  then  he  said  there  were  a  million  rattlers  in  motion 
quicker  than  he  could  think.  In  fighting  his  way  out  he  killed 
two  or  three  of  them,  but  fearing  we  would  get  out  of  the  carriage 
he  called  excitedly  that  the  falls  were  not  there.  We  kept  on 
long  after  the  stars  came  out  to  light  our  way,  when  suddenly 
the  horses  stopped  with  a  sudden  backward  motion  that  nearly 
threw  us  from  the  carriage.  We  had  driven  up  to  the  very  brink 
of  a  deep  gorge:  another  step  forward  and  we  would  have  been 
dashed  to  the  bottom.  It  was  impossible  to  go  on,  and  just  as 
impossible  to  go  back.  If  we  were  not  lost  our  wigwam  surely 
was  lost,  and  no  wood  or  water,  and  but  little  grass  was  within 
our  reach.  Fortunately  we  had  picked  up  a  long  tepee  pole  in 
our  wanderings,  which  we  intended  to  use  for  an  improvised 
tent,  and  we  had  a  little  water  left  in  the  jug  that  had  been  filled 
from  the  river  above.     Mrs.  Todd  never  had  such  an  unquench- 


142         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

able  thirst  as  she  had  that  day  when  water  was  unobtainable, 
and  there  was  not  much  of  it  left  in  the  jug. 

We  had  brought  only  food  enough  for  a  couple  of  lunches, 
and  as  we  now  camped  on  the  little  hillock,  we  knew  we  must 
be  very  frugal  for  this  was  our  second  meal.  We  were  likely  to 
be  in  sore  need  before  we  found  our  way  out  to  the  ranch  again, 
for  lost  we  were  good  and  plenty,  and  every  one  had  a  story  to  tell 
about  such  adventures,  and  how  sustenance  had  been  sought  from 
trees  and  shrubs.  One  told  how  a  Montana  lady  had  made  a 
rattlesnake  pie,  another  said  soldiers  in  old  Mexico  subsisted  en- 
tirely on  snake  meat,  and  so  we  babbled  on  while  we  made  a 
little  fire  with  the  tepee  pole,  and  had  a  cup  of  hot  lemonade  with 
our  lunch.  We  fastened  a  canvas  cover  to  the  wagon  wheels, 
and  with  our  blankets  and  robes  we  made  a  fairly  warm  place  to 
sleep.  During  the  night  a  little  mouse  sought  our  shelter  and  a 
few  bugs.  When  they  were  safely  under  cover  and  engaged  in  a 
running  race  across  our  heads  and  hiding  in  our  ears  we  heard  the 
rain  coming  down  pit-a-pat,  and  that  seemed,  indeed,  a  final 
stroke  of  bad  luck.  But  the  good  morning  brought  us  a  clear, 
bright  sky,  and  we  hurried  away  from  the  dark  depths  where  we 
would  have  been  hurled  had  we  attempted  to  go  the  few  steps 
beyond  our  camping  ground.  We  hoped  to  take  our  breakfast  at 
the  falls,  but  we  travelled  on  until  one  o'clock  before  we  found 
them.  It  was  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  to  miss  them,  for 
they  were  between  two  bends  of  the  river,  and  at  least  five  hun- 
dred feet  below  the  cliffs  from  which  we  finally  spied  them. 

What  a  grand  and  glorious  sight  to  see  far  out  in  that  un- 
tamed land.  The  horses  were  unharnessed  and  fastened  with 
lariats,  and  we  climbed  down  the  steep  mountainside  to  revel  in 
the  full  glory  of  the  dashing  foam.  We  spent  hours  in  joyous 
admiration,  in  sketching  and  fishing,  and  climbing  among  the 
rocks  and  on  the  Devil's  card  table.  This  table  is  one  fiat 
rock  about  fifteen  feet  square  and  poised  on  a  single  pedestal 
scarcely  a  foot  in  diameter. 

Immediately  below  this  raging  cataract  is  a  noble  cliff,  water 
washed  and  worn,  and  which  in  high  water  stands  out  clearly  as 
an  island.  In  low  water  the  river  flows  around  it,  making  a 
sharp  turn  to  the  left,  and  at  that  season  we  were  enabled  to 
climb  upon  it  as  well  as  under  it.  In  the  latter  place  we  found 
the  ashes  of  a  camp  fire  and  some  hairpins,  which  showed  that 


Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri  143 

other  parties  had  been  equally  curious  to  visit  this  wonderful 
sight  4,000  miles  from  the  sea  by  the  river  route. 

The  Great  Falls  extend  only  half  way  across  the  river,  the 
other  half  is  a  series  of  cascades  and  rapids  that  take  a  final  leap 
of  twenty  or  more  feet  to  the  boiling  chasm  in  the  river  bed. 
There  is  no  foothold  for  man  or  beast  along  the  stone  walls  on 
either  side  of  this  great  aquatic  display. 

The  scenery  was  so  enchanting  and  the  hour  so  late  that  it 
was  deemed  wise  to  remain  all  night  on  the  bluff  above,  where  we 
had  left  our  horses,  and  make  an  early  start  in  the  morning  for 
the  Kelly  ranch,  hoping  to  find  it  with  much  less  trouble  than  we 
had  found  the  falls.  We  pulled  ourselves  up  the  steep  slope  by 
clinging  to  grass  roots  and  shrubs  and  digging  our  heels  and  toes 
into  the  hard  soil. 

We  were  illy  prepared  for  the  surprise  awaiting  us  in  our 
camp.  As  soon  as  the  men  lifted  their  heads  above  the  ravine 
their  eyes  went  out  to  the  place  where  the  horses  had  been  made 
fast,  but  they  were  not  there.  Not  a  shadow  or  trace  of  them 
was  to  be  found;  even  the  trail  was  lost  in  the  hard  dry  grass. 
One  was  gone  without  his  lariat,  and  the  other  one  had  taken  his 
lariat  along.  How  such  a  thing  could  happen  without  human 
aid  was  a  mystery.  Were  Indians  about,  ready  to  pounce  down 
upon  us,  were  they  bandits,  or  simply  some  one  playing  a  joke  on 
us?  We  had  seen  no  one,  not  even  a  fresh  trail  in  all  our  two 
days'  pilgrimage,  and  yet  the  affair  looked  serious. 

The  gentlemen  started  immediately  in  pursuit.  We  did  not 
have  time  to  implore  one  of  them  to  remain  with  us  before  they 
were  out  of  sight.  One  of  them  had  a  gun,  and  the  other  a 
butcher  knife  that  he  had  taken  below  to  dress  fish  if  he  were 
fortunate  enough  to  catch  any.  Mrs.  Todd  and  I  hunted  up  the 
hatchet  and  horsewhip  and  sat  down  on  a  robe  to  wait — two 
more  forlorn  individuals  would  be  hard  to  find.  We  had  some 
reason  to  think  the  horses  were  stolen  as  one  lariat  was  untied 
from  the  animal's  neck.  Of  course,  we  thought  of  Indians,  half- 
breeds,  Mexicans,  and  horse  thieves  all  in  no  time,  expecting  one 
or  more  to  appear  every  instant.  We  kept  close  to  the  brink 
of  the  precipice,  and  said  we  would  jump  over  the  cliff  into  the 
river  rather  than  be  taken  prisoners  by  the  Indians. 

Our  men  met  beyond  a  distant  hill  and  after  consultation 
Mr.  Todd  decided  to  go  on  until  he  found  the  horses  or  a  ranch, 


144         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


and  Pard  should  return  to  camp.  All  night  long  Mr.  Todd 
wandered  on  his  weary  way  while  we  sat  on  the  bank  feeding 
the  camp  fire  to  its  utmost  to  guide  him  if  he  returned.  The 
awful  thunder  of  the  roaring  waters  seemed  like  a  field  of  heavy 
artillery ;  the  weird  light  of  the  late  moon  on  the  white  foam  ren- 
dered it  sublime,  while  the  contrast  of  the  black  shadows  in  rocky 
outline  caused  feelings  of  awe  indescribable  and  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. One  lone  sentinel  at  last  was  left  to  patrol  the  camp  and 
to  keep  up  a  cheery  blaze  until  day  dawned  and  yet  Mr.  Todd  did 


Courtesy  of  Northern  Pacific  Railway  Co. 

Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri 

not  return.  The  moon  was  lost  behind  dark  clouds  and  toward 
morning  a  light  snow  fell.  Day  came  cold  and  damp  and  our 
condition  was  hourly  growing  more  serious.  All  the  forenoon  we 
wandered  about  picking  up  fagots  of  wood  and  bits  of  dried 
grass  that  we  might  keep  up  our  signal  smoke  for  a  rescuing 
party.  Mrs.  Todd  exhibited  most  remarkable  composure,  and 
constantly  expressed  her  belief  that  "William"  was  such  a 
wonderful  pioneer  that  he  would  surely  bring  our  own  horses  or 
bring  help.  At  noon  we  descended  to  the  river  to  try  our  luck 
again  at  fishing.     We  had  to  get  fish  or  starve. 


Fort  Benton  and  Great  Falls  of  the  Missouri    145 

Professor  Hayden  says  in  his  famous  reports  on  that  section 
that  no  trout  were  ever  caught  below  those  falls.  But  it  was 
not  a  case  of  what  had  or  had  not  been  done.  The  larder  had 
been  reduced  to  salt  and  tea  and  we  just  must  catch  a  trout  or  go 
hungry.  There  was  already  a  feeling  of  having  missed  several 
meals,  and  just  plain  salt  did  not  sound  appetizing.  Once  down 
at  the  water's  edge  the  lines  were  thrown  repeatedly  and  all 
known  charms  were  used  to  tempt  the  wary  tribe,  and  at  last 
Pard  gave  a  glad  shout  and  landed  a  two  pound  trout.  It  was 
surely  a  special  Providence ;  at  least  it  was  so  considered,  and  we 
hurried  up  to  camp  loading  ourselves  with  every  stick  of  drift- 
wood or  rotten  burnable  stuff  that  could  be  found  on  the  way. 

There  were  no  signs  below  of  the  return  of  the  wanderer, 
and  when  we  had  again  scaled  that  five  hundred  feet  and  saw 
no  evidence  of  his  coming,  my  heart  ached  for  the  courageous 
little  wife  who  would  not  weaken  in  her  belief  that  "William" 
was  all  right  and  woiild  soon  come. 

The  trout  was  browning  over  the  tiny  fire,  and  the  tea  was 
just  ready  when  horses  and  riders  were  silhouetted  against  the 
sky  on  a  distant  cliff  rapidly  approaching.  After  a  moment  of 
breathless  anxiety  and  keen  survey  the  glad  cry  of  recognition 
burst  from  every  throat.  Here  came  our  gallant  knight  back 
to  his  lady  love,  bringing  two  horses  and  food,  and  with  him  came 
the  same  Robert  Vaughn  who  had  wakened  our  midnight  slum- 
bers to  share  the  stage  at  Sun  River.  How  glad  we  were  that 
we  had  not  been  petulant  or  rude  on  that  night  when  he  wanted 
a  warmer  corner  than  the  outside  seat  with  the  stage  driver. 
He  had  taken  his  team  out  of  the  work,  and  at  once  gave  the 
succor  which  Mr.  Todd  solicited. 

Mr.  Todd  had  walked  forty  miles  since  he  had  left  us,  not 
knowing  where  he  was,  but  trying  to  follow  a  general  guidance  of 
the  distant  mountains.  At  night  during  the  snow-storm  he  did 
not  dare  to  stop.  Daylight  revealed  how  he  walked  round  and 
round  in  a  circle  which  was  traced  in  the  snow,  but  daylight 
had  also  set  him  right  again  and  he  trudged  wearily  on  until  he 
reached  the  Sun  River  ranch,  where  after  a  hasty  meal  they 
hurried  to  our  relief.  They  also  brought  bread  and  bacon  which 
was  hastily  added  to  our  fish  and  tea,  and  made  us  a  banquet 
that  every  one  will  remember  to  the  end  of  time. 

Mr.  Vaughn  is  another  example  of  western  energy  and  per- 


146         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

severance.  He  went  to  Sun  River  only  eight  years  previous  to 
this  story  with  nothing  he  could  call  his  own  but  his  determina- 
tion to  win.  From  an  employee  he  soon  became  the  employer, 
then  came  his  own  herds  of  cattle  and  fine  horses,  until  the 
world's  abundance  was  his.  To-day  he  is  living  in  the  city  of 
Great  Falls,  near  his  earlier  home — the  city  built  almost  upon 
the  site  of  our  adventures;  the  city  of  railroads  and  factories 
and  smelters,  the  city  of  fine  homes  and  horseless  carriages;  a 
city  ablaze  with  electric  lights  and  trams,  and  all  the  modern 
frills  for  comfort  and  happiness  and  thrift  for  its  tens  of  thousands 
of  inhabitants.  It  is  like  sleeping  the  sleep  of  old  Rip  Van 
Winkle  and  waking  to  find  a  new  world,  while  old  faces  and  old 
places  have  passed  away. 

J.  J.  Hill  and  his  associates,  in  later  years,  located  6,000 
acres  of  land  in  that  locality,  on  which  has  been  built  the  city  of 
Great  Falls,  such  an  important  feeder  of  the  Great  Northern 
Railroad.  The  location  is  just  below  the  mouth  of  Sun  River, 
taking  in  the  Black  Eagle  Falls,  and  the  most  delightful 
spot  in  Montana.  Here,  too,  is  the  most  beautiful  part 
of  the  Sun  River  Valley,  a  great,  wide  bottomland  stretching 
off  to  the  northwest.  The  valley  of  the  Missouri  partakes 
here  of  the  same  character,  while  the  bad  land  banks  disap- 
pear entirely  from  view.  The  charms  of  this  place  were  noted 
by  Lewis  and  Clark,  the  first  explorers,  and  in  the  history  of 
their  travels  they  dwelt  at  length  upon  the  beauty  of  the  scene. 

The  joys  of  motherhood  have  often  been  envied  as  fond  parents 
watched  the  budding  and  maturing  intellects  of  their  children  and 
noted  their  development  into  men  and  women  of  honor  and 
refinement,  but  it  is  no  small  compensation  to  help  make  towns 
and  cities  spring  from  earth  in  answer  to  the  demands  of  an  army 
conquering  a  wilderness  as  it  follows  the  trail  of  the  pioneer. 

We  made  a  short  trip  out  to  Kelly's  where  our  benefactor 
left  us,  and  the  party  divided  to  take  up  respective  duties.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Todd  returned  to  Benton  by  stage,  leaving  the  wagon 
to  be  drawn  in  by  the  first  freighter  who  would  take  it.  Our 
horses  were  not  found  until  the  following  spring.  The  ropes  with 
which  they  were  tied  were  new  ones  resulting  in  the  knots  not 
being  secure.  The  horses  probably  had  worked  themselves  loose, 
and  had  roamed  at  will  all  winter,  and  were  found  rolHng  fat  in  the 
spring  with  a  short  rope  still  around  the  neck  of  one  of  them. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THROUGH  IDAHO,  SODA  SPRINGS,  BLACKFOOT,  AND  CHALLIS 

"They  talk  about  a  woman's  sphere  as  though  it  had  a  limit; 
There  's  not  a  place  in  earth  or  heaven, 
There  's  not  a  task  to  mankind  given, 
There  's  not  a  blessing  or  a  woe, 
There  's  not  a  whispered  yes  or  no, 
There  's  not  a  life  or  birth, 
There  's  not  a  feather's  weight  of  worth — 
Without  a  woman  in  it." 

HEN  we  returned  from  the 
long  trip  in  Montana  the 
winter  was  spent  in 
Omaha,  then  after  nearly 
two  months  in  Denver  we 
started  for  the  wild  rugged 
hills  of  Idaho.  We  trav- 
ersed the  Union  Pacific 
road  to  Ogden,  thence  by 
the  Utah  and  Northern 
Colonel  Linsiey's  baptism  to  Oneida,  whcrc  wc  Con- 

nected with  the  tri -weekly  stage  for  the  famous  Soda  Springs 
of  Idaho,  located  forty  miles  to  the  northeast  of  Oneida  on  the 
line  of  the  then  prospective  branch  of  the  Union  Pacific  from 
Granger  to  Portland.  The  ride  along  the  Port  Neuf  River  was 
a  succession  of  happy  surprises  in  waterfalls  and  cascades,  in 
mountain  curiosities  and  forest  shades. 

At  the  springs  we  were  the  guests  of  the  gallant  Captain 
Codman  and  wife,  who  had  chosen  Soda  Springs  as  their  summer 
home  in  preference  to  all  others  of  the  world  which  their  years  of 
foreign  and  home  travel  had  encircled.  Captain  Codman  was 
an  old  sea  captain  whose  family  for  generations  past  had  been 
among  the  Four  Hundred  of  Boston.  They  spent  many  years 
abroad,  but  found  no  place  that  afforded  them  as  free  a  plane 
to  lead  their  own  lives  as  at  Soda  Springs. 

147 


14B         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  huge  mountains  of  mineral  deposits  with  their  unique 
colorings  were  ever  a  source  of  interesting  study  for  lovers  of 
nature's  mysteries.  There  were  more  than  a  hundred  springs  in 
the  locality  and  the  most  popular  was  the  Hooper  Spring.  The 
opening  was  five  feet  in  diameter  and  the  superabundance  of  gas 
kept  the  water  in  a  wild  commotion.  Poor  little  dead  birds  that 
had  tried  to  drink  from  the  spring  were  found  in  large  numbers. 

A  child  that  fell  in  the  water  was  snatched  out  before  it 
was  scarcely  wet,  yet  it  strangled  beyond  help,  and  the  little 
one  was  laid  away  for  its  long  rest.  An  incredulous  man  tried  to 
drink  from  it  and  was  dragged  away,  just  in  time  to  save  him. 
But  to  drink  the  sparkling  natural  champagne  from  a  glass  was 
to  enjoy  a  delicious  and  healthful  beverage.  Our  only  disap- 
pointment was  in  the  absence  of  all  hot  springs,  as  the  warmest 
water  would  not  exceed  seventy  degrees  Fahrenheit. 

There  were  many  apertures  in  the  ground  which  emitted 
strong  fumes  of  ammonia.  The  wily  captain  was  full  of  his 
jokes  on  Pard  whom  he  seemed  to  look  upon  as  a  tenderfoot. 
Once  he  insisted  that  Pard  dismount  and  inhale  the  fumes  from 
an  opening  in  the  ground,  which  were  especially  pleasant.  He  told 
Pard  to  take  in  a  good,  deep  breath,  which  he  did  at  nearly  the 
cost  of  his  life.  He  was  instantly  overcome  by  strong  ammonia 
fumes  and  fell  forward  into  the  hole.  The  captain  saw  his  mis- 
take and  made  a  lightning  jump,  grabbed  Pard  by  the  feet,  and 
pulled  him  out.  It  was  an  experience  that  even  the  joke-loving 
captain  said  he  would  never  repeat. 

Returning  to  Oneida  we  learned  that  the  people  of  the  only 
hotel  had  gone  away  on  an  excursion  and  the  house  was  locked  up 
tight.  A  glimpse  or  two  in  a  couple  of  restaurants  had  decided 
us  to  leave  Oneida  supperless,  when  we  spied  the  hotel  picnickers 
coming  home.  It  required  more  than  silver-tongued  oratory 
to  persuade  them  to  prepare  a  meal  for  us,  and  in  addition  to 
other  inducements  the  tired,  crying  baby  was  handed  over  to 
me  to  soothe  and  care  for.  He  opened  his  big  blue  eyes  in  aston- 
ishment when  a  stranger  took  him  from  his  mother's  breast,  but 
the  change  seemed  to  please  him,  and  his  little  smile  clung  to  his 
features  when  I  had  cuddled  him  to  sleep. 

From  Oneida  we  went  by  special  engine  and  caboose  over 
the  unballasted  track  to  Blackfoot  from  where  we  were  to  cross 
southern  Idaho  by  stage.     That  night  in  Blackfoot  was  a  terror. 


►Ht  bslia  8ll9Y  bnB  aJoda  1ip  b  nadw  bavmB  tauf  ti  d 

dg  bnfi  noolBa  b  oini  gnibh  Y^i   nBgod  \&dT  . 
,c  bnr//  sdi  sjIH  asinoq  liadt  nBi  nsdJ  ^Uso  2Jri§:l  a./; 

11  .  39?  bli;03  V3dj  Idgil  ^'^evo  1b  ^nhh  2t99il2  9d1 

.8jii  ,q     ^^aoBinBm  9^il 


148         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


<.  ixiAgc  mountains  » 
ags  were  ever  a  sou 
si's  mysteries.     Theii 
v»»i^  xv>cality  and  the  most 
opening  was  five  feet  in  di 
kept  the  water  in  a  wild  c< 
had  tried  to  drink  from  tl 
A  child  that  fell  in  t 
was  scarcely  wet,  yet 
one  was  laid  away  for 
drink  from  it  and  wa- 
But  to  drink 
to  enjoy  a  d* 


^:    .vpvvsits  with  their  unique 

i  teresting  study  for  lovers  of 

f)re  than  a  hundred  springs  in 

was  the  Hooper  Spring.     The 

ixd  the  superabundance  of  gas 

1.     Poor  little  dead  birds  that 

were  found  in  large  numbers. 

r  was  snatched  out  before  it 

i  beyond  help,  and  the  little 

An  incredulous  num  1  ried  to 

just  in  time  irn. 

^gne  from  a  glass  was 

,j;e.     Our  only  disap- 


sidered  that  locality  as  their  special  property*  -  ^  .  We  had 


but  j\xst  arrived  when  a  fusilade  of  shots  and  ye 

stmu'-^  tumes 


iii^; ' /V'V^.^  They  began  by  riding  into  a  saloon  and  shooting 
^'  the  lights  out,  then  ran  their  ponies  like  the  wind  up  and  down 
the  streets  firing  at  every  light  they  could  see  .  .  ,  and  yelling 

like  maniacs."     p.  148. 

Parcl^  i-     T  ,     . 

jDrawn  by  Charles  M,  Russell, 
cost  01 

fumes  and  f el '  'iiis- 

;ic  tecL,  and 

ic  joke-loving 


featu 

Fron: 
the  unba 
southern 


.1  it  Jell  the  people  of  the  only 

>n  and  the  house  was  locked  up 

\?o  in  a  couple  of  restaurants  had  decided 


jiua  hu}>perless,  when  we  spied  th 
\     It  required  more  thati  eilver 

orepare  a  n"; 

iieiiu^  die  tired,  cryi 

and  care  for.     He  op^ 

a  stranger  took  him  froi 

*^^d  to  please  him,  n^^' 

ad  cuddled  him 

we  went  by  sp* 

->.ok  to  Blackfoo  ,. . 

.lare.     Thatn; 


>icnickers 
'   oratory 


east,  but 
ung  to  his 

oaboose  over 
,, .  .  were  to  cross 
iackftx>t  was  a  terror. 


Through  Idaho  to  Blackfoot  and  Challis    149 


As  soon  as  the  town  sprung  into  existence  it  became  evident  that 
the  cowboys  of  that  locality  considered  it  their  special  property 
and  they  took  possession  of  the  town  too  frequently  for  the 
peace  of  mind  of  other  people. 

On  this  particular  night  we  had  but  just  arrived  when  a 
fusillade  of  shots  and  yells  filled  the  air,  as  if  a  band  of  Indians 
had  turned  loose  to  destroy  all  the  town.  No  one  knew  what 
might  happen  when  such  a  m^lee  was  once  begun,  and  at  such 
times  it  was  generally  the  innocent  who  suffered.  They  began 
by  first  riding  into  a  saloon  and  shooting  the  lights  out ;  then  ran 
their  ponies  like  the  wind  up  and  down  the  streets  firing  at  every 
light  they  could  see,  regardless  of  what  they  might  hit.     They 


-(--^ 


<C?^- 


Danielson's  double-end  store 


rode  their  ponies  right  into  stores  and  saloons,  yelling  like  maniacs, 
and  no  one  dared  to  check  them  lest  he  would  get  the  next  bul- 
let. It  was  more  than  an  hour  before  the  sheriff  and  a  posse  of 
men  got  out  and  chased  them  for  miles  out  on  the  highroads, 
but  they  did  not  capture  the  fleet-footed  cowboys,  who  had  left 
two  men  shot  to  death  and  a  cyclonic  wreckage  that  would  be 
hard  to  describe. 

Our  old  pioneer  friend,  T.  T.  Danielson,  who  was  postmaster 
and  one  of  the  leading  merchants  of  Blackfoot,  was  so  familiar 
with  cowboy  ways,  and  so  considerate  of  their  comfort,  that  he 
constructed  a  double-ended  building  with  wide  doors  at  both 
ends,  so  that  the  boys  could  ride  right  through,  and  do  away 
with  the  confusion  and  wreckage  naturally  resulting  from  a 
band  of  bucking  bronchos  turning  around  in  the  middle  of  a 
country  store.  The  song  of  the  cowboy  does  not  half  express 
his  characteristics. 


150        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

THE  COWBOY 

"I  'm  a  Buzzard  from  the  barrens,  on  a  tear; 

Hear  me  toot! 
I  'm  a  lifter  of  the  flowing  locks  of  hair; 

Hear  me  toot! 
I  'm  a  Racker  from  the  Rockies, 
And  of  all  the  town  the  talk  is. 
He  's  a  pirate  of  the  Pamoas, 

On  the  shoot.' 

*'  Sometimes  I  strike  an  unprotected  town, 

Paint  it  red. 
Choke  the  sheriff,  turn  the  marshal  upside  down 

On  his  head. 
Call  for  drinks  for  all  the  party, 
And  if  chinned  by  any  smarty, 

Pay  in  lead. 

"I  *m  a  coyote  of  the  sunset,  'Prairie  Dude,' 

Hear  my  zip! 
In  the  company  of  gentlemen  I  'm  rude 

With  my  lip. 
Down  in  front !     Remove  that  nigger, 
Or  I  '11  perforate  his  figure! 
I  'm  a  fly,  I  'm  a  fighter, 

I  'm  a  flip!" 

Old  Fort  Hall,  a  few  miles  from  Blackfoot,  is  one  of  the  most 
thrillingly  historical  landmarks  of  Idaho,  or  even  of  the  Northwest. 
It  is  on  the  old  Oregon  trail  and  it  was  the  "  Mecca"  of  overland 
travellers,  an  oasis  for  many  a  weary  and  worn  pioneer.  Fort 
Hall  was  at  the  forks  of  the  trail,  one  branch  leading  south  across 
Bear  River,  and  the  other  on  to  Oregon. 

The  fort  was  built  of  adobe  brick  and  it  was  a  strong  fort- 
ress against  Indian  attacks.  Its  location  was  on  a  point  of 
land  between  Spring  Creek  and  Snake  River,  which  formed  pro- 
tection from  Indians  on  two  sides.  There  is  but  little  left  of 
it  now  but  its  crumbling  walls  and  tall  chimney  to  tell  of  its 
seventy  years  of  usefulness  in  days  of  war  or  peace,  storm  or 
sunshine.  What  a  history  it  might  unfold  of  perilous  journeys, 
of  hopes  and  fears,  of  rescues,  of  massacres,  and  of  courageous 
travellers  bound  for  the  new  Eldorado  of  the  great  Northwest. 
The  Bannock  Indians  were  frequently  on  the  war  path  and  made 
one's  life  uncertain  in  that  section  even  as  late  as  1880.  It  was 
the  Bannocks  that  had  made  our   trip    so    perilous   in    1878 


Through  Idaho  to  Blackfoot  and  ChaUis    151 

on  that  first  journey  to  Helena  when  we  just  slipped  through 
between  their  guns. 

One  of  the  first  Indians  who  visited  Fort  Hall  for  barter 
was  called  "Old  Ocean"  who  in  1880  was  said  to  be  114  years 
old;  he  with  two  companions  traded  six  fine  beaver  furs  for  two 
tin  cups  and  a  pocket  knife.  Then  feeling  that  they  had  cheated 
the  white  men  they  hurried  away  for  fear  of  losing  the  cups  and 
knife  if  they  remained  longer.  He  said  it  was  a  good  many 
years  before  he  learned  who  had  been  cheated,  but  the  pos- 
session of  that  knife  had  made  him  one  of  the  richest  and  most 


Old  Fort  Hall  near  Blackfoot 


envied  men  of  his  tribe.  I  tried  to  make  him  understand  that 
he  was  not  cheated  if  each  side  in  the  trade  got  just  what  he 
wanted,  but  he  only  wrinkled  up  his  face  in  a  way  that  was  half 
smile  and  half  frown  and  pulled  himself  down  into  his  tightly 
drawn  blanket  as  a  hint  that  he  would  say  no  more. 

It  had  consumed  a  week  of  time  to  visit  the  Soda  Springs 
and  be  ready  to  leave  Blackfoot  by  the  Toponce  and  Myers 
stage  line  headed  for  the  rich  mining  region  of  the  Salmon 
River  and  Yankee  Fork  country. 

The  first  forty  miles  west  was  through  a  sage-brush  desert 
with  not  a  drop  of  water  the  entire  distance  except  what  was 
hauled  by  teams  from  Snake  River.  The  dust  was  insufferable, 
enveloping  the  stage  in  such  clouds  of  ashy  earth  that  we  could 
not  see  the  wheels  of  the  coach  and  it  spread  over  us  like  waves 
of  the  sea. 


152         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  "half-way"  station  was  called  "Root  Hog"  because  of 
its  filthy  condition.  It  was  only  half  way  of  the  first  day's  drive. 
It  was  a  hut  where  dwelt  a  dog  and  a  man  who  cared  for  the 
stage  teams.  The  dog  was  noted  for  being  a  remarkable  snake 
killer,  and  the  man  for  the  filth  he  lived  in. 

We  arrived  at  midnight  at  Lost  River  Junction — which  was 
another  dividing  of  the  ways — one  road  going  north  to  Challis 
and  Bonanza,  and  one  going  southwest  to  Wood  River,  Camas 
Prairie,  and  Boise  City.  There  were  no  accommodations  what- 
ever for  passengers,  and  the  winter  time  schedule  was  on,  com- 
pelling night  stops,  whether  there  was  any  place  to  sleep  or  not. 


A  native  entertainer  in  the  sign  language 

Those  who  take  chances  in  new  countries  undergo  hard- 
ships that  would  be  unendurable  at  times  were  it  not  for  the 
vein  of  ludicrousness  that  runs  through  the  experiences.  The 
camping  out  and  picking  up  first  lessons  in  harnessing  a  mule, 
or  a  vain  endeavor  to  throw  the  diamond  hitch,  are  matters 
that  may  add  a  wrinkle  of  care  at  the  time,  only  to  be  laughed 
away  in  after  years.  Time  mellows  many  hardships  and  leaves 
sunny  memories  of  even  very  strenuous  pioneer  days. 

So  now,  when  Pard  alighted  from  the  stage,  shook  off  the 
first  coat  of  dirt,  and  politely  asked  where  we  were  to  go  for  a 
bed  and  rest,  he  was  met  by  the  rebuff,  "Well,  great  God,  man, 
you  've  got  the  whole  territory  of  Idaho  spread  out  before  you. 
Ain't  that  enough?"    There  was  not  a  bed  within  twenty  miles 


Through  Idaho  to  Blackfoot  and  Challis   153 

of  the  place,  and  there  was  no  choice  but  to  stay  in  the  coach  by 
the  haystack  with  the  mercury  below  the  freezing  point,  or  to  take 
an  allotted  space  on  the  floor  of  the  one-roomed  building  used 
as  post-office,  store,  and  living-room  of  the  agent.  The  store  was 
clean  and  warm  and  was  the  more  inviting  of  the  two  situations. 

I  was  the  only  woman,  but  there  were  twenty-six  men,  all 
looking  for  a  place  for  a  few  hours'  rest ;  yet  almost  with  one  voice 
every  man  demanded  that  I  should  have  his  blankets,  insisting 
that  he  did  not  need  (?)  them,  and  instantly  putting  them  in  a 
pile  down  by  the  stove.  We  earnestly  thanked  them  and  declined 
more  than  necessary  for  our  use.  Our  blankets  were  spread 
next  to  the  stove  (as  the  place  of  honor  and  comfort),  and 
when  all  were  ready  to  sleep  the  anxious  merchant  built  a  roar- 
ing fire.  There  was  but  one  small  window  in  the  room  and 
that  was  closed,  but  there  was  an  aperture  under  the  door  wide 
enough  to  let  in  a  whole  winter.  It  was  a  strange  night  and  I 
wondered  what  the  good  folks  at  home  would  think  if  they  could 
have  had  a  glimpse  of  our  surroundings.  It  was  a  long  night, 
too,  and  day  had  not  yet  come  when  some  one  began  quietly  to 
renew  the  fire.  Groping  about  the  floor  in  the  dark  for  some 
kindling  the  fire  builder  got  hold  of  my  foot  and  it  scared  him 
nearly  out  of  his  senses,  for  those  were  days  when  men  died  for 
less  cause  than  that.  His  apologies  were  profuse  and  sincere, 
and  although  we  have  made  several  trips  through  his  place  since, 
he  always  alluded  to  the  incident  as  his  "narrow  escape." 

It  seemed,  however,  that  something  that  was  unexpected 
must  always  happen  there  at  Lost  River.  Several  houses  were 
erected  there  soon  after  our  first  trip,  and  the  merchant  had  a 
home  and  family  of  his  own,  separate  from  the  store,  where  a 
few  weary  travellers  were  better  cared  for. 

On  a  later  trip  in  summer  when  we  were  stopping  there  his 
baby  was  left  alone  cooing  on  the  floor,  with  an  outer  door  open. 
The  mother  wondered  what  was  pleasing  the  baby  so  much  and 
keeping  him  so  still.  She  peeped  in  to  see,  and  her  blood  nearly 
froze  in  her  veins  when  she  saw  the  child  encircled  by  a  great 
rattlesnake,  and  baby  having  great  fun  squeezing  it.  The  fatal 
strike,  however,  came  quickly,  and  all  efforts  to  save  the  child's 
life  were  useless,  and  the  dear  baby  was  dead  in  a  few  hours. 

Snakes  and  mosquitoes  were  so  numerous  that  life  was  a 
burden  during  the  summer  months.     One  very  hot  night  there 


154         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  mosquitoes  were  so  bad  that  sleep  was  out  of  the  question. 
We  were  exhausted  by  heat  and  dusty  travel,  and  the  winged 
insects  made  a  night  of  such  physical  discomfort  that  even  a 
flood  of  tears  could  not  relieve.  One  could  not  be  outdoors  in 
the  dark  for  fear  of  stepping  on  a  rattler,  and  inside  was  the 
constant  hum  of  insects  ready  to  attack  any  exposed  part  of  the 
anatomy,  while  the  mercury  nearly  evaporated  at  the  top  of 
the  thermometer. 

We  made  five  round  trips  over  that  line,  but  the  winter  trip 
and  the  store  floor  were  heaven  compared  with  summer  trips. 
The  road  through  to  Challis  covered  i6o  miles  from  Blackfoot, 
requiring  at  best  thirty-six  hours'  travel,  through  an  unin- 
teresting country,  until  near  Round  Valley,  in  which  the  town  of 
Challis  is  located.  A  rugged  range  of  bluffs  skirted  the  valley 
and  a  small  creek  ran  babbling  along  their  base. 

This  little  town  of  five  hundred  people  was  the  base  of 
supplies  for  the  various  mining  districts  including  Yankee 
Fork,  Bay  Horse,  Beardsley,  Salmon  River,  and  several  other 
camps. 

On  our  first  trip  into  Challis  the  only  hotel  in  the  place  was  a 
small  seven-log,  dirt-roof  house  of  three  rooms — one  used  as  a 
dining-room,  another  for  a  sleeping  apartment,  and  the  kitchen 
was  in  the  third  room,  a  kind  of  slab  shed.  The  stage  arrived 
late  in  the  evening  with  nearly  a  score  of  tired  passengers  all 
wanting  a  bed,  but  as  Pard  was  the  only  man  who  had  his  wife 
with  him  he  was  at  once  assigned  to  one  of  the  only  two  rough 
pine  bunks  in  the  sleeping-room. 

Just  as  soon  as  supper  was  over  and  the  men  had  picked  out 
their  places  in  various  corners  of  the  office  room  to  sleep,  or  had 
gone  to  some  livelier  quarters  of  the  town,  a  second  stage  load 
came  in  with  several  ladies,  and  how  to  arrange  matters  then  was 
a  problem  not  easily  solved.  Husbands  refused  to  leave  their 
wives,  and  wives  refused  to  let  their  husbands  go  elsewhere  for 
shelter.  We  could  not  keep  the  only  room  to  ourselves  with  an 
extra  bunk  in  it  if  the  room  was  only  ten  by  twelve  feet,  when 
so  many  were  needing  a  share  of  it.  Alexander  Toponce's  name 
was  signed  on  our  stage  transportation  and  we  could  not  do  less 
than  give  him  and  his  wife  the  vacant  bunk  for  a  night's  lodging. 
The  men  of  his  party  protested  against  Mr.  Toponce  and  wife 
taking  it  and  offered  to  play  a  game  of  Seven  Up  for  the  bed, 


I 


Through  Idaho  to  Blackfoot  and  Challis    155 

for  there  were  three  men  with  their  wives  wanting  a  room,  but 
Toponce  refused  to  yield.  It  was  suggested  that  the  ladies  take 
the  room,  but  that  did  not  meet  with  favor.  The  landlord 
came  in  and  said  he  did  not  know  what  his  own  wife  and  chil- 
dren were  going  to  do  for  a  place  to  sleep,  but  the  hour  was  late 
and  something  had  to  be  done  quickly. 

Mr.  Toponce  said  something  about  fourteen  people  for  two 
beds  and  went  out  of  the  room  leaving  a  trail  of  yellow  words  in 
a  blue  atmosphere  and  an  impression  that  he  was  going  to  raise 
the  roof  or  enlarge  the  room,  but  he  only  struck  off  to  the  stage 
stable  and  got  all  the  grain  sacks,  saddle  blankets,  and  lap  robes 
around  the  place,  and  as  many  shake-downs  were  made  in  that 
little  room  as  could  be  spread  out.  When  every  one  was  ready 
for  bed  and  standing  close  to  the  spot  he  was  to  rest  his  weary 
bones  on,  the  light  was  put  out  and  all  crawled  into  the  blankets, 
taking  off  only  such  apparel  as  could  be  spared  and  tucking  it 
under  blankets  to  keep  it  from  a  general  mix-up. 

What  a  night  that  was!  Four  of  the  men  were  the  boss 
snorers  of  Idaho,  or  any  other  "ho,"  and  to  crown  all,  the  rain 
fell  in  torrents  during  the  night  and  came  through  the  dirt 
roof,  bringing  with  it  diluted  mud  and  misery  the  whole  night 
long.  One  party  raised  an  umbrella,  and  another  raised — 
well,  the  reader  can  guess  it  was  not  heaven;  that  would  not  be 
appropriate  to  express  his  feelings. 

One  forgot  where  he  put  his  flask,  and  in  reaching  out  to 
find  it  he  passed  his  hand  over  the  face  of  one  of  the  ladies,  who 
promptly  gave  a  loud  scream,  and  then  followed  profuse  apolo- 
gies by  the  thirsty  owner  of  the  hand.  When  morning  came  at 
last  it  sent  a  bright  sun  peeping  in  onto  a  most  dismal  scene. 
Mud  was  everywhere.  The  ladies'  faces  and  gowns  were  spat- 
tered by  the  drippings  through  the  mud  roof.  Some  clothing 
was  too  wet  to  put  on,  and  some  people  too  mad  to  smile  had 
they  been  clothed  in  the  king's  purple.  It  was  indeed  ludicrous 
in  the  extreme  and  sorely  vexatious,  but  it  was  pioneering.  Our 
bunk  and  clothing  had  been  well  protected,  and  we  could  but 
look  with  pitying  eyes  on  those  unfortunates  in  spite  of  the 
ludicrous  side  of  the  situation. 

There  was  a  little  farming  done  in  Round  Valley.  One  Mr. 
Beerly  had  thirty  acres  from  which  he  gathered  300,000  pounds  of 
potatoes  and  sold  them  for  five  cents  a  pound.     But  the  scarcity 


156         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

of  water  for  irrigation  made  extensive  farming  almost  out  of  the 
question.  The  Salmon  River  had  ample  supply,  but  it  was  so 
far  below  the  general  level  that  it  would  have  to  be  fiumed  for 
many  miles  to  bring  it  onto  the  surface  around  Challis. 

A  gentleman  well  known  in  the  community  started  out  a  few 
days  before  our  arrival  with  his  dog,  for  a  hunt  of  a  few  hours. 
Spying  some  game  in  the  distance,  he  started  on  a  run  across 
a  sage-brush  flat,  paying  little  attention  to  his  footsteps,  but 
throwing  the  bushes  aside  right  and  left  with  his  hands,  and 
hurrying  on,  for  it  was  already  dusk,  when,  without  warning,  he 
tripped  and  fell  into  a  den  on  a  mother  bear  and  her  cubs.  She 
had  dug  a  big  hole  under  the  spreading  branches  of  the  sage, 
where  she  deemed  herself  safe  from  intrusion. 

Her  instinct  prompted  preservation  for  herself  and  young, 
and  before  the  poor  victim  could  collect  himself  for  action  the 
monster  had  him  in  her  cruel  embrace.  She  broke  both  of  his 
arms  almost  instantly,  and  was  tearing  him  to  pieces  with  the 
claws  of  her  hind  feet.  At  this  juncture  his  dog  appeared  and 
began  biting  and  plaguing  the  bear  until  she  loosened  her  hold 
on  the  man  and  turned  on  the  dog.  The  man,  bleeding  and 
almost  helpless,  crawled  out  of  the  den  and  found  shelter  under  a 
neighboring  sage-brush,  but  the  dog  and  the  bear  continued  their 
parley  until  the  bear  finally  ran  away  with  her  babies. 

The  dog  soon  found  his  master's  hiding  place  and  commenced 
licking  his  wounds  and  face  as  his  only  way  of  expressing  his 
realization  of  what  had  happened.  With  the  aid  of  his  teeth  and 
a  stick  the  wounded  man  attached  a  piece  of  his  bloody  garments 
to  his  faithful  dog's  collar  and  instructed  him  to  go  back  to 
town  for  help. 

The  poor  brute  looked  wistfully  at  his  master  as  if  he  did 
not  want  to  leave  him,  but  a  second  command  sent  him  running 
off  at  full  speed.  When  the  dog  reached  the  village  he  ran 
through  the  street  with  such  a  dreadful  howl  that  every  one  turned 
to  look  at  him,  and  some  men  who  knew  the  animal  loosened 
the  bloody  rag  from  his  collar.  As  soon  as  this  was  done,  the 
sagacious  dog  wheeled  around  and  started  back  to  his  master  as 
fast  as  he  could  go,  followed  by  men  on  horseback,  and  they 
found  the  man  more  dead  than  alive.  The  wounded  man's 
condition  was  critical,  but  it  was  thought  he  would  recover. 

Col.  N.  E.  Linsley,  now  of  Spokane,  Washington,  and  the 


I 


Through  Idaho  to  Blackfoot  and  Challis    157 

Hon.  Peter  Groat,  who  was  then  Immigration  Agent  of  the 
Northern  Pacific   Railroad,  were  interested  in  the  Ramshorn 


**  He  tripped  and  fell  into  a  den  on  a  mother  bear  and  her  cubs  " 

mine  near  Challis.  Mr.  Groat  was  a  man  widely  known  in  the 
West  and  familiarly  called  "Uncle  Peter"  by  the  majority  of 
his  friends  and  acquaintances. 

157 


158         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Uncle  Peter  and  Colonel  Linsley  "kept  house"  together  in 
a  little  log  cabin  and  one  day  there  came  an  invitation  to  dine 
with  them.  It  was  in  the  year  1878,  after  the  new  hotel  was 
built  and  run  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Burns,  who  are  both 
dead  and  can  never  read  these  lines  and  learn  how  glad  we  were 
for  a  change  in  diet. 

It  was  amusing  to  see  these  two  capitalists  aiding  their 
chef  in  preparing  dinner  for  their  guests,  and  no  housewife  ever 
felt  more  anxious  than  they  did.  However,  when  one  would 
think  of  a  good  story  or  joke  on  some  associate  which  must  be 
told  at  once,  he  would  come  from  the  preparatory  corner  waving 
a  big  wooden  spoon,  with  which  he  had  been  mixing  the  salad, 
or  perchance  a  huge  fork  or  hunter's  knife  would  be  swung  around 
for  emphasis  as  the  story  and  work  went  on. 

The  colonel  is  ever  an  encyclopedia  of  wood  lore,  and  he 
could  find  the  rarest  plants  of  the  woods,  and  tell  many  extra- 
ordinary tales  of  the  forest  and  the  language  of  nature.  He  is 
still  one  of  the  most  genial  companions  in  camp  life  that  one 
could  find  in  many  leagues  of  travel.  It  has  often  been  a  matter 
of  regret  that  the  menu  of  that  memorable  day  was  not  saved 


^ 

1 

The  Burns  house  of  Challis,  Idaho 


for  it  was  an  excellent  dinner,  with  such  jovial  companionship 
that  thoughts  of  it  have  ever  been  a  joy  and  a  solace  in  hours  of 
reminiscence. 

The  colonel  spent  one  night  at  the  Burns  House  where  he 
had  a  room  on  the  ground  floor.     A  fellow  upstairs  had  come  in 


Through  Idaho  to  Blackfoot  and  Challis  159 

too  full  of  spirits  to  be  steady,  and  he  knocked  over  his  wash- 
stand  on  the  rather  open  floor.  The  poor  colonel  got  a  rousing 
good  baptism  through  the  cloth  ceiling  before  he  reached  for  his 
umbrella  and  raised  it  over  himself  in  bed ;  then  he  began  calling 
for  the  descendant  of  the  Scotch  bard,  who  kept  the  hotel,  to 
learn  what  was  the  matter  upstairs. 

Mrs.  Burns  was  a  character  not  forgotten  by  the  patrons 
of  her  house;  she  loved  a  social  cup  and  made  herself  a  conspicu- 
ous figure  of  the  hostelry  of  Challis.  She  never  knocked  on 
entering  any  one's  room,  nor  curbed  her  queries  about  any  one's 
affairs.  How  she  did  love  her  toddy!  bless  her  departed  soul! 
Any  one  who  ever  visited  the  Burns  House  could  tell  a  spirited 
tale  of  the  mistress  of  the  house  and  her  tricks  to  increase  the 
earnings  of  the  bar. 

The  Beardsley  mine  was  located  on  an  eminence  overlooking 
the  Bay  Horse  village.  It  was  owned  and  worked  by  the  Beards- 
ley  brothers,  formerly  of  Canada,  who  were  gentlemen  of  high 
standing.  They  had  a  neat  little  cabin  nestling  under  the  broad 
sheltering  branches  of  high  pine  trees,  some  of  which  were  six 
and  seven  feet  in  circumference.  While  superintending  the 
building  of  the  chimney  of  the  cabin  Robert  Beardsley  found  a 
smooth  slab  of  slate  which  he  carried  in  for  the  top  of  a  stand, 
the  frame  having  been  standing  several  days  waiting  for  a 
proper  covering.  As  soon  as  he  took  it  in  the  house  it  was 
noticed  that  on  one  side  of  the  slab  was  a  highly  colored  land- 
scape of  the  forest  rock  variety.  In  the  foreground  were  large 
pine  trees,  with  a  valley,  mountains,  and  forest  in  the  distance. 
The  foliage  and  coloring  would  do  an  artist  credit,  for  it  was  al- 
most perfect  in  detail,  and  over  the  whole  was  the  roseate  glow 
of  a  setting  sun.  They  had  already  refused  five  hundred  dollars 
for  the  slab. 

The  mineral  value  was  not  alone  the  attraction  of  the  mine, 
but  it  afforded  fine  specimens  of  ruby,  native  and  wire  silver, 
and  some  of  the  finest  crystallized  carbonates  of  lead  that  any 
mine  ever  produced.  These  crystals  were  found  in  pockets 
along  the  vein  and  were  like  threads  of  frost  work  delicately 
interlaced  in  patterns  of  rarest  beauty.  Some  of  the  copper 
stains  and  deposits  were  of  strange  richness  in  a  clear  light  green, 
with  a  surface  like  the  nap  of  heavy  velvet.  The  whole  made  the 
vein  one  of  beauty  and  renown,  from  which  specimens  could  be 
sold  in  the  East  for  fabulous  sums. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


A  LARK  ON  YANKEE  FORK  AND  A  SENSATIONAL  RETURN  TO 

SALT  LAKE 

"  Merry  it  is  in  the  good  greenwood, 

When  the  mavis  and  merle  are  singing, 
When  the  deer  sweeps  by,  and  the  hounds  are  in  cry, 
And  the  hunter's  horn  is  ringing." 

i^OPONCE  and   Myers  built 

the  stage  road  to  Bonanza 

I  jls^        from  Challis,  a  distance  of 

-v.-  •  ^^*-'i^''  iiW'W'  ^^^^  thirty-five  miles,  at  a 
'""  ^  '  "    '^        "       cost  of  $30,000,  but  never 
did  a  road  wind  more  pic- 
turesquely among  the  foot- 
hills, or  afford  finer  views 
V'i&^if'^''^  ""  from  lofty  summits.  Swing- 

ing around  curves,  over- 
looking precipitous  depths  and  gliding  through  ravines  with  just 
a  narrow  strip  of  blue  sky  above,  crossing  high  points,  and  then 
losing  one's  self  in  labyrinths  of  forestry,  combined  to  make  the 
most  interesting  day's  drive  that  a  lover  of  scenery  could  hope 
to  find. 

The  road  was  full  of  freight  teams  carrying  heavy  loads  of 
supplies  for  the  Yankee  Fork  and  other  mines.  Ten  and  twelve 
horses  to  a  wagon  stretched  themselves  out  in  long,  muscular 
tension  to  pull  the  load  up  the  steep  grades  with  harness  creaking 
and  feet  slipping  on  stones  as  the  drivers  trudged  along  beside 
them  or  rode  the  near-wheeler,  and  sent  forth  volleys  of  oaths 
with  every  crack  of  the  whip  while  mumbling  a  jargon  known 
only  to  themselves  and  their  much  abused  teams.  In  fact  it  is 
said  that  the  horses  become  so  used  to  the  oaths  hurled  at  them 
that  they  would  not  travel  without  them. 

Bonanza  is  encircled  with  heavily  timbered  mountains,  the 
ground  is  gently  rolling,  and  the  Yankee  Fork  Creek  dashes 

160 


I 


I 

i 


§ 
S 

I 

u 

6 

a 


6 

0) 

a 


i62         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

through  the  town  merrily  laughing  at  every  obstacle  that  tends 
to  check  its  course.  There  were  only  about  two  hundred  and 
twenty-five  houses  in  the  town,  and  there  are  not  many  more  at 
this  writing,  nearly  thirty  years  later,  but  the  people  were  fully 
conscious  of  the  beauty  of  their  mountain  eyrie,  and  in  cutting 
down  the  trees  they  left  enough  to  keep  their  town  most  pic- 
turesque and  to  spare  a  double  drive  with  a  triple  row  of  trees 
for  their  principal  street. 

Just  in  the  outskirts  were  many  trees  where  the  bark  had 
been  very  carefully  and  regularly  stripped  off.     Indians  often 


Indians  scrape  the  juicy  nutriment  from  underneath  the  bark 


cut  off  the  bark  and  scrape  the  juicy  nutriment  from  trees  for 
sustenance,  and  it  will  keep  one  alive  for  many  days,  but  these 
trees  were  cut  so  regularly  and  so  ingeniously  that  I  knew  there 
must  be  other  cause  than  want  of  food,  and  I  learned  it  was  done 
by  the  earliest  settlers  who  cut  out  the  strips  evenly  and  put 
them  under  heavy  weights  to  flatten  and  cure,  then  used  them 
for  shingles,  and  the  curiously  covered  cabins  were  one  of  the 
attractions  of  the  town. 

The  Httle  hotel  was  kept  by  the  Dodge  brothers,  and  a 
quaint  Httle  house  it  was,  too,  with  its  thin  partitions  and  meagre 
furnishings,  but  they  gave  their  guests  the  best  of  care,  and  they 
were  exceedingly  hospitable  and  soHcitous.  It  was  a  great  place 
for  men  to  congregate,  down  on  the  shady  side  of  the  street  in  front 
of  the  hotel  just  under  our  windows,  and  their  voices  floated  up 


A  Lark  on  Yankee  Fork  163 

into  the  room  much  more  than  they  knew,  and  one  could  not 
help  hearing  much  of  the  talk  not  intended  for  publication. 

The  first  trip  out  from  Bonanza  was  on  foot  to  the  Chas. 
Dickens  mine,  a  mile  and  a  half  from  town,  where  the  pure  gold 
stood  out  on  the  vein  like  dew  on  the  grass  in  Eastern  summer 
time.  The  morning  was  cool  and  bright,  and  as  we  rose  above 
the  town  in  our  steady  climbing,  we  now  and  then  would  lean 
upon  our  staves  and  look  back  upon  the  busy  village  and  the 
distant  snow-clad  hills  while  waiting  for  our  breath  to  catch  up. 

We  were  cordially  received  by  Mr.  Bill  Norton,  the  prin- 
cipal owner  of  the  mine,  and  a  warm  fire  and  a  hot  dinner  were 
soon  proffered  as  substantial  evidence  of  his  hospitality.  Mr. 
Norton  was  a  Michigan  man  and  was  the  original  discoverer  of 
the  mine  in  July,  1875.  Inside  of  thirty  days  he  pounded  out 
$11,500  in  gold  with  a  hand  mortar.  In  one  ixight  he  pounded 
out  $1 130.  He  would  take  rock  from  the  surface  day  times  and 
pound  it  up  at  night.  The  following  three  months  two  of  his 
men  took  out  ore  and  shipped  it  to  Salt  Lake  City,  from  which 
they  realized  $15,000,  and  that  after  paying  as  high  as  $100  a 
ton  to  packers  to  take  it  to  Salmon  City,  thence  $40  for  teamsters 
to  Corinne.  Both  gold  and  silver  crop  out  in  all  purity.  One 
nugget  of  white  quartz  about  the  size  of  a  dozen  walnuts  was 
literally  filled  with  gold,  and  its  estimated  value  was  $125.  In 
1876  Mr.  Norton  went  to  Corinne  on  the  Central  Pacific  Rail- 
way all  alone  with  280  pounds  of  gold.  An  old-fashioned  arastra 
ground  up  the  ore,  but  it  was  not  able  to  save  all  the  precious 
metals,  and  the  tailings  were  valued  at  $80  per  ton.  In  five 
months,  in  1879,  it  ground  out  $40,000.  The  arastra  was  located 
at  the  foot  of  the  hill  and  presided  over  by  the  genial  Johnnie 
Rohrer.  He  gallantly  showed  the  workings  of  the  simple  little 
Spanish  arastra  and  how  it  yielded  its  large  quantities  of  gold  and 
silver  bullion  from  its  one  httle  pan  and  settler. 

Bill  Norton  was  the  oracle  and  savant  of  the  camp,  a  man  of 
most  generous  nature  and  kind  to  every  one  but  himself,  as  often 
his  handsome  earnings  from  the  little  hand  mortar  were  laid 
upon  a  gaming  table  and  lost  even  more  quickly  than  made. 
He  refused  to  sell  the  mine  because  it  was  his  bank  where  he 
could  always  go  and  get  money  without  having  any  red  ink  side 
to  his  account.  When  he  died  in  a  Salt  Lake  hospital  a 
few  years  later  he  was  mourned  by  every  one  who  knew   him, 


164         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

for  in  spite  of  his  unkindness  to  himself  he  had  a  multitude  of 
friends. 

Every  camp  has  its  eccentric  character  and  Bonanza  had 
several,  chief  among  whom  was  one  known  as  Laughing  B rookie, 
a  cognomen  earned  by  his  genial  laughter,  which  surmounted  all 
obstacles  or  troubles  and  made  him  famous  in  many  sections  on 
the  frontier.  The  laugh  was  like  the  braying  of  the  long-eared 
quadrupeds;  it  was  long,  deep,  and  loud.  He  was  known  all 
through  California,  where  he  once  had  been  a  very  rich  man. 
A  good  story  follows  him  of  the  last  sumptuous  banquet  which 
he  gave  his  friends  of  the  Sierras.  News  had  reached  him  of  the 
loss  of  his  entire  fortune,  which  he  had  staked  on  some  venture, 
and  keeping  his  secret,  he  immediately  gave  orders  for  a  dinner 
eclipsing  anything  he  had  ever  given.  He  invited  as  many  as 
could  be  accommodated;  many  choice  viands  were  brought  from 
distant  cities  for  the  occasion,  and  champagne  flowed  like  water. 

The  evening  was  a  memorable  one  for  every  friend  within  the 
radius  of  the  town  and  many  regretted  the  limit  of  their  capacity 
and  mourned  when  the  feast  was  done.  The  next  morning  the 
landlord  presented  his  bill,  which  showed  that  no  expense  had 
been  spared  to  make  the  banquet  the  success  of  his  life,  but  he  was 
horrified  to  learn  that  Brookie  had  not  a  dollar  in  the  world  to 
pay  for  anything.  The  accommodating  host  was  in  a  towering 
rage,  and  wanted  to  know  why  he  had  not  been  told  of  that  before 
the  banquet.  Then  Brookie  straightened  up  and  let  out  his 
peculiar  laugh  which  rang  through  the  rafters  and  was  rounded 
out  by  the  reply:  "Why,  I  thought  it  would  make  you  feel 
bad  enough  to  know  it  this  morning."  Brookie's  good  nature 
finally  won  favor  again  and  the  host  told  him  to  take  a  light 
wagon  and  a  team  and  go  and  catch  fish  for  the  house.  The 
man  with  the  laugh  jumped  at  the  offer,  and  was  soon  ready  and 
off  to  fulfil  the  mission.  He  was  gone  just  seven  years,  when 
one  day  he  walked  into  the  same  hotel  and  strolling  up  to  the 
desk  where  the  same  manager  still  presided,  he  said:  "Say, 
pard,  hee  haw,  hee  haw,  say,  hee  haw,  I  never  had  a  bite  so  I  've 
brought  the  team  home,  hee  haw."  However  many  tears  there 
may  have  been  in  his  heart,  his  life  was  a  song  and  he  always 
carried  the  music  with  him. 

The  Custer  mine  presented  a  marked  contrast  to  others,  not 
only  in  its  location  and  general  properties,  but  also  in  its  manage- 


A  Lark  on  Yankee  Fork 


165 


ment.  It  was  situated  a  mile  and  half  from  Bonanza  and  just 
above  the  little  settlement  of  Custer.  The  ledge  of  ore  was 
largely  on  the  surface  of  the  mountain  just  as  the  ore  lay  on  the 
surface  of  the  later  Granby  mine  of  British  Columbia.  It  was  so 
easily  worked  that  two  men  could  take  out  ore  enough  to  keep 
the  twenty  stamp  mill  running  day  and  night.     While  there  was 


"  Dodge  Brothers  gave  their  guests  the  best  of  care  " 

no  doubt  that  the  mine  was  excessively  rich,  the  owners  were 
said  to  be  skimming  the  cream. 

We  wanted  to  ride  in  the  tramway  basket  that  carried  the 
ore  from  the  mine  to  the  mill,  but  the  receptacle  would  hold  but 
a  hundred  pounds,  and  I  could  not  reduce  myself  to  that  weight 
and  was  denied  the  aerial  flight  down  the  mountainside,  and 
perhaps  saved  a  dumping  into  the  creek  or  an  ore  bin. 

A  good  story  which  Bishop  Tuttle  liked  to  tell  on  himself 
happened  between  Challis  and  Bonanza.      The  good  bishop  was 


i66         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

driving  along  on  one  of  his  rounds  when  he  met  a  Methodist 
preacher  newly  arrived  in  that  section,  and  whom  the  bishop 
addressed  by  saying:  "Well,  my  friend,  how  is  it  that  you  can 
drive  two  horses  and  I  have  only  one?"  "Well,"  replied  the 
stranger,  "you  are  probably  a  one  horse  preacher,"  and  without 
knowing  that  he  was  addressing  the  famous  bishop  he  drove  on. 

We  were  indebted  to  the  gallant  Major  Hyndman,  the  leading 
attorney  of  Bonanza,  and  to  his  associate,  Hon.  E.  M.  Wilson, 
for  a  day  of  rare  experiences  in  mountain  climbing  and  exploring, 
which  has  ever  been  one  of  the  green  spots  in  days  of  dusty 
travel.  It  consisted  of  a  trip  to  the  Montana  mine  on  Mt. 
Estes.  The  party  was  well  mounted  and  the  horses,  full  of 
the  ginger  of  the  fresh  mountain  air,  were  more  used  to  hard 
climbing  than  they  were  to  flying  skirts.  But  a  little  coaxing 
soon  made  them  tractable  and  we  galloped  off. 

The  Montana  mine  was  six  miles  northward  from  Bonanza, 
near  the  summit  of  Mount  Estes.  The  ride  thither  was  de- 
lightful for  one  who  enjoys  the  zigzag  mountain  climbing,  first 
along  the  Jordan  Creek  a  couple  of  miles,  where  it  was  laughable 
to  see  the  horses  clinging  to  the  little  trail  not  much  wider  than 
their  feet,  and  where  a  slip  would  have  immersed  us  in  the  Jordan 
waters  far  below.  The  air  was  full  of  song  from  our  own  throats 
and  those  of  happy  birds  that  filled  the  wooded  hills.  We 
seemed  almost  in  the  depths  of  heaven  itself,  with  the  deep  blue 
vault  arched  so  near  us  that  it  appeared  to  be  within  our  grasp. 
There  never  can  be  a  bluer  sky  than  that  which  glorifies  the 
Idaho  mountains. 

Up  Jordan  Creek  over  a  little  narrow  trail  near  the  edge  of 
the  ravine,  so  near  that  I  kept  watching  the  feet  of  Pard's 
horse  to  see  how  near  my  own  horse  would  have  to  go  to  the 
edge,  for  a  horse  can  travel  exceedingly  well  on  a  six  inch  trail; 
up  and  down  we  went,  crossing  and  recrossing  the  swift  little 
creek  until  with  a  right  about  we  began  climbing  straight  up 
the  mountainside.  Up  a  little  farther  and  the  jagged  crown  of 
the  Saw  Tooth  range  rose  in  the  distance  with  all  the  glory  of  its 
lights  and  shades,  its  pillows  of  snow  and  its  forests  of  pines,  its 
lakelets  and  streams. 

Messrs.  Hooper,  Franklin,  and  Cameron,  the  three  gallant 
knights  of  this  famous  mine,  made  our  sojourn  among  them  one 
of  joy.     John  Chinaman,  who  had  the  kitchen  in  charge,  put 


A  Lark  on  Yankee  Fork  167 

his  wits  to  work  and  brought  forth  a  dinner  that  surprised  us  by 
its  excellence  and  variety  and  the  thoughtfulness  of  the  providers. 

It  was  a  day  appointed  for  a  meeting  of  the  owners  of  the 
mine,  and  we  had  the  pleasure  of  meeting  them  and  seeing  them 
together.  Captain  Hooper  brought  out  a  supply  of  jackets  and 
hats  in  which  we  robed  ourselves  and  prepared  to  descend  into 
the  mine.  It  had  not  seemed  possible  that  a  mine  way  up  on  a 
mountain  peak  could  be  a  wet  one;  one  would  think  from  the 
cone  shaped  contour  of  Mt.  Estes  that  it  would  be  as  dry  as  a 
bone  when  the  summer  sun  had  melted  the  snow,  but  instead  of 
that  its  interior  walls  seemed  to  generate  water  and  it  was  a 
difficult  matter  to  keep  the  mine  dry  enough  to  work  at  all. 

It  was  quite  a  climb  up  to  the  mines  from  the  cabins,  but 
the  day  was  perfect  for  mountaineering,  and  it  was  not  long  be- 
fore we  stood  at  the  winze  looking  into  the  cavernous  depths  of 
the  treasure  house.  But  Mr.  Hooper  begged  us  not  to  look  down 
for  fear  we  might  lose  our  courage  and  not  make  the  descent. 

There  was  considerable  water  in  the  shaft,  caused  by  the 
melting  snows,  and  when  we  were  clothed  in  the  rubber  coats 
and  hats  and  gum  boots  provided  for  the  exploration,  we  made 
a  picture  that  was  grotesque  and  humorous,  if  not  artistic. 

That  day  the  winze  was  not  running,  and  the  only  way 
down  to  the  lower  levels  was  to  climb  hand  over  hand  down 
the  hundred  and  fifty-five  feet  on  a  ladder  that  was  very  much 
broken  and  had  an  occasional  rung  missing.  One  end  of  a  rope 
was  tied  around  my  body  and  the  other  end  was  tied  around 
Superintendent  Hooper,  who  was  the  strongest  man  in  the  party 
and  followed  down  after  me,  so  if  I  missed  my  footing  or  lost  my 
head  I  would  not  be  hurled  to  the  bottom  of  the  shaft.  A  loose 
knotted  rope  also  hung  from  each  level  down  the  side  of  the 
ladder  to  be  used  in  case  of  accident.  All  kinds  of  encouraging 
words  were  echoing  down  the  long  dark  passage,  but  in  spite  of 
them,  the  one  thought  of  "What  fools  we  mortals  be"  seemed 
uppermost  in  my  mind.  We  were  praised  for  courage  but  felt 
that  those  who  remained  at  the  top  were  the  only  ones  with  a 
grain  of  sense.  The  last  six  feet  down  in  that  great  black  hole 
were  minus  the  ladder  and  we  had  to  "shin  a  rope"  and  when  our 
feet  touched  the  solid  earth  again  how  I  did  wish  they  were  on 
the  earth  above  instead  of  on  the  earth  beneath.  We  were 
given  picks  to  loosen  whatever  specimens  we  wanted,  and  there 


i68         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


•ae^ 


were  some  rather  inexperienced  blows 
given  to  the  valuable  ore  body,  but  some 
choice  bits  sparkling  with  gold  now  lie 
in  our  cabinet  as  reminders  of  that  day's 
experience. 

I  was  thankful  for  every  fraction  of  my 
five  feet  five  and  three  quarters  when  I 
had  to  go  up  the  rope  to  get  out  of  that 
hole,  and  the  old  broken-runged  ladder 
was  not  to  be  maligned.  The  upward 
climb  was  far  more  laborious  than  the 
descent  had  been,  and  it  was  a  sensation 
of  joy  not  to  be  expressed  in  paltry  words 
when  we  had  our  feet  on  top  of  the  ground 
and  could  breathe  in  the  air  of  the  pines 
in  the  sunlight  again.  No  other  woman 
had  ever  been  down  in  that  mine,  and  I 
am  sure  my  own  ambition  was  amply 
gratified  by  the  experience.  The  first- 
class  ore  of  this  mine  had  thus  far  aver- 
aged about  $4000  per  ton,  and  there  were 
then  six  tons  of  it  on  the  dump  awaiting 
shipment. 

After  a  thorough  investigation  of  the 
mine  we  climbed  to  the  summit  of  the 
mountain  for  a  view  of  the  snowy  ranges 
on  the  outskirts  of  that  vast  monumental 
park,  of  which  Mt.  Estes  seemed  to  be 
the  centre,  with  here  and  there  a  river,  a 
forest,  a  valley,  hill,  or  plain  at  our  feet; 
above  us  was  the  bright  flag  which  the 
mining  company  always  kept  floating 
there,  and  the  clear  August  sky.  Skirt- 
ing our  pinnacle  far  beyond  were  the 
ragged,  pointed  peaks  of  the  Saw  Tooth, 
Salmon,  and  Wood  River  ranges,  rising 
in  all  majesty  and  grandeur,  with  their 
burdens  of   snow,   forests,   and   precious 

»^  .      ,  t-     J    J  minerals. 

"  Going  down  one  hundred  ^      ,*  i_     1     ^      4.1,  t.*   ^  „.^ 

and  fifty-five  feet  into  O^   ^he  way  back   to   the  cabms  we 

the  Montana  mine"       stopped  on   the  slope  for  some  trials  of 


A 


-^^ 


>Va 


lifk. 


Sensational  Return  to  Salt  Lake 


169 


I 


snow  shoeing.  We  were  quite  surprised  at  the  success  of  our 
first  effort,  and  it  seemed  wondrous  easy,  but  at  the  second 
trial  some  one  suggested  that  we  go  in  the  path  made  by  the 
first  trip.  It  was  a  bit  of  wickedness  which  did  not  penetrate 
our  slow  wits  until  all  that  was  visible  of  us  was  our  heads  peep- 
ing from  under  the  beautiful  snow.  We  went  down  the  slope 
with  such  rapidity  that  we  were  not  conscious  of  jumping  the 
trail  until  completely  buried  in  the  ravine,  and  I  opened  my 

eyes  on  the  rescuers 
digging  us  out.  They 
worked  with  an  ear- 
nestness that  showed 
their  fear  that  I  might 
be  seriously  hurt,  and 
it  was  now  my  turn  to 
get  even  by  keeping 
my  eyes  closed  and 
just  allowing  myself 
to  be  dug  out  and 
lifted  out  upon  a 
blanket ;  then  I  opened 
my  eyes  and  compli- 
mented their  strength 
and  carefulness. 

The  party  was 
made  up  of  people 
who  have  left  their 
mark  on  pages  of  history.  Captain  Hooper  was  a  handsome  man 
in  the  prime  of  life,  a  lover  of  the  mountains  and  of  mining,  and 
a  genial  generous  host.  Major  Hyndman  was  the  author  of  '*A 
History  of  a  Cavalry  Company.''  It  was  of  Company  A,  nth 
Pennsylvania  Regiment,  and  the  book  gave  its  experiences  in  the 
Civil  War.  The  Major  was  also  an  important  figure  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  development  of  Idaho,  not  only  in  Yankee  Fork  and 
Salmon  District,  but  over  in  the  Vienna  country  and  on  down 
southward  along  Wood  River  to  Ketchum,  until  a  sudden  death 
ended  his  work. 

E.  M.  Wilson  was  a  prominent  mining  man  of  the  Wood 
River  country,  and  a  society  favorite,  and  in  later  years  became  a 
member  of  the  Idaho  legislature,  and  still  later  mayor  and  banker 


At  the  bottom  of  the  shaft 


170         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

of  Fairhaven,  Washington,  where  he  married  and  lives,  a  young 
man  still,  who  loves  to  talk  over  and  enjoy  again  the  pioneer  days. 

Mr.  Cameron  was  mourning  his  life  away  for  the  sweet- 
heart of  earlier  days  and  he  was  sure  she  mourned  for  him  be- 
cause she  had  never  married,  and  he  wanted  a  woman's  idea 
of  what  he  should  do,  and  it  was  not  long  after  that  when  we 
received  the  cards  of  his  wedding. 

After  a  few  days  in  Bonanza  my  liege  lord  and  two  com- 
panions left  for  the  Saw  Tooth  range  and  the  Wood  River  country 
150  miles  southward  on  horseback.  I  was  left  among  new-found 
friends,  with  a  good  horse  and  saddle,  and  they  thought  I  was 
also  left  with  the  conviction  that  the  trip  would  be  too  hard  for  me. 
But  who  can  boast  of  10,000  miles  by  stage  and  half  as  many 
miles  on  horseback  through  the  fastnesses  and  over  the  towering 
pinnacles  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  and  Coast  Ranges  without 
feeling  chagrined  at  being  stood  at  bay  before  so  trifling  a  trip. 

The  mountain  streams  were  swollen  to  the  high  water  mark, 
and  there  was  no  trail  or  safe  fording  of  the  waters  that  must  be 
crossed,  so  after  much  persuasion  there  was  a  feeble  consent 
given  to  remain  behind,  which  was  later  much  regretted  by  both 
Pard  and  myself. 

Mr.  Norton,  the  godfather  and  oracle  of  the  camp,  had  said 
it  would  not  do  to  send  a  woman  over  that  rugged  Saw  Tooth 
range  with  such  swollen  streams  and  an  untried  horse,  and  his 
word  became  the  law.  Several  most  delightful  weeks  were  then 
spent  among  Bonanza's  hospitable  people.  We  climbed  the 
summits  of  the  mountains  and  carved  names  on  the  trees;  we 
sang,  we  strolled  through  wooded  trails,  and  told  stories  around 
the  camp  fires;  we  sketched  the  finest  views,  and  penetrated  the 
nearby  canyons;  we  tried  snow  shoes  again,  but  with  no  better 
success  than  at  the  first  effort. 

We  watched  the  loading  of  pack  trains  with  no  little  amuse- 
ment. Each  little  jack  was  blindfolded  until  his  pack  of  three 
hundred  pounds  was  made  fast  to  his  saddle  with  that  wonder- 
ful diamond  hitch  in  the  ropes,  the  secret  of  successful  trans- 
portation over  the  mountains  and  down  the  steep  and  narrow 
trails  throughout  all  countries.  But  no  amusement  could  fill  the 
vacancy  made  by  the  separation  from  Pard  and  I  grew  restless 
at  delay. 

When  Major  Hyndman  went  over  the  range  with  Pard  he  left 


Sensational  Return  to  Salt  Lake 


171 


the  key  to  his  office  that  we  might  enjoy  his  library  and  a  quiet 
place  for  writing.  In  describing  the  office,  a  quotation  from  a 
letter  to  my  mother  could  hardly  be  improved:  "So  here  I 
am  this  afternoon  seated  at  the  popular  attorney's  desk  and 
trying  to  borrow  some  of  his  dignity,  as  Nell  Gwynn  did  in  days 
of  old  when  she  assumed  the  stolen  wig  and  gown  of  the  hard- 
hearted Judge  and  played  his  role.  The  table  on  which  I  am 
writing  is  made  simply  of  plain  pine  boards,  some  of  Major 
Hyndman's  own  carpenter  work.  The  floor  is  also  of  plain, 
rough  boards;  there  is  a  cupboard  where  he  keeps  his  secrets, 
and  perhaps  some  spirits  are  in  there  too;  a  few  pictures  adorn 
the  walls,  and  give  tone  to  the  crude  surroundings.     There  is 

/ 


Copyright  by  1  )•.,.,,:  1',:  -;-  (  'u. 

"  We  watched  the  loading  of  pack  trains  with  no  Httle  amusement " 


also  man's  inseparable  companion,  a  mirror  (I  wonder  what  he 
would  say  to  that)  which  hangs  on  the  wall  close  by  the  window 
where  the  light  is  best.  But  the  chief  charm  of  the  room  is  the 
library,  which  is  indeed  an  extensive  one  to  find  in  such  a  se- 
cluded spot.  There  is  a  world  of  interesting  reading  matter  not 
bearing  upon  the  law,  which  accounts  for  his  own  versatility 
and  the  composition  which  I  found  on  the  table,  for  it  was  no 
less  than  his  own  book  of  memoirs  of  the  Civil  War  which  he 
had  left  for  me  with  his  autograph.  I  should  not  forget  to 
mention  the  spade  in  one  corner  of  the  room;  a  sack  of  ore,  a 
saddle,  a  box  of  old  clothes,  a  few  odorous  pipes  lying  about  in 
artistic  confusion,  and  a  well  worn  broom.  Can  you  imagine  the 
completed  picture?" 

When  Mr.   Clawson  and   Major  Hyndman  returned  from 


172         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Wood  River,  Pard  went  on  to  Boise  City,  and  for  my  entertain- 
ment a  party  was  made  up  for  a  fishing  trip  to  be  out  two  or 
three  days,  but  the  first  day  in  camp  two  of  the  horses  got  away, 
Mr.  Clawson's  and  mine.  With  his  philosophical  turn  of  mind 
he  looked  upon  the  incident  as  a  huge  joke,  but  when  two  days 
were  spent  in  fruitless  hunt  for  the  straying  animals  the  pleasure 
of  fishing  was  lost,  and  the  homeward  trip  was  not  jubilant. 
The  gentlemen  of  the  party  took  a  turn  about  in  riding  and  walk- 
ing, on  the  ride  and  tie  system.  One  man  would  ride  a  mile  or 
two,  then  tie  the  horse,  and  start  along  on  foot.  The  horse 
would  then  rest  until  the  pedestrian  caught  up,  then  he  would  ride 
past  No.  2  for  a  mile  or  so  and  tie  again;  that  was  kept  up  for 
■about  fifteen  or  twenty  miles. 

Mr.  Clawson  related  how  some  one  had  stolen  his  revolver 
while  crossing  the  range  with  Pard.  They  had  stopped  at  a 
cabin  where  conditions  pointed  to  the  occupants  being  of  the 
bandit  order,  and  they  kept  pretty  close  watch  of  their  horses 
and  other  belongings  during  the  stay,  and  when  they  mounted 
they  clapped  their  hands  on  the  holsters  to  draw  the  weapons 
and  be  ready  for  trouble,  but  one  revolver  was  gone,  and,  alas! 
it  was  my  own  pet  which  I  had  loaned  him  for  the  trip,  and  which 
I  always  carried  with  me  but  never  had  occasion  to  use.  But 
it  always  gave  me  a  sense  of  security  to  have  the  means  of 
defence  close  at  hand. 

It  was  delightful  sojourning  among  the  hills,  taking  long 
rides  through  the  valleys  and  picnicking  in  the  groves.  The 
whole  village  seemed  to  be  turned  into  an  entertainment  com- 
mittee. Mrs.  Cal.  Clawson  took  me  to  her  own  home  and  did 
a  great  deal  for  my  pleasure,  but  the  more  I  thought  about  the 
long  and  uncertain  trip  on  which  Pard  had  ventured,  it  seemed 
that  I  must  get  back  to  the  railroad  where  I  could  more  quickly 
get  into  communication  with  him  and  I  started  out  for  Salt 
Lake  alone.  At  Challis  I  met  Mr.  C.  A.  Carrier,  who  was  then 
city  ticket  agent  of  the  Union  Pacific  Company  at  Omaha. 
He  was  horrified  to  think  that  I  should  make  that  trip  out  to 
Blackfoot  alone,  and  endeavored  to  have  me  change  my  mind 
and  wait  until  Pard  came  for  me.  Mr.  Carrier  had  just  arrived 
on  a  business  trip,  and  said  if  he  ever  got  over  that  road  alive 
he  would  never  cross  that  desert  again  until  he  could  cross  it  in 
a  Pullman  car,  and  he  kept  his  word. 


Sensational  Return  to  Salt  Lake 


173 


The  friends  were  numerous  who  watched  the  stage  roll  out 
of  Bonanza  and  Challis  and  the  words  of  cheer  and  solicitude 
worked  wonders  in  driving  away  unpleasant  features  of  the  trip. 
Upon  reaching  the  station  of  Big  Butte,  where  I  was  obliged  to 
stay  for  the  night,  things  looked  pretty  blue  for  any  place 
to  rest.  The  house  was  crowded  to  overflowing,  and  no  one 
was  feeling  very  comfortable  either.     There  was  a  nervousness 


Saw  Tooth  Mountain  bandit  cabin  where  my  revolver  was  stolen 

among  the  people  there  that  I  could  not  account  for.  Big 
Butte  station  was  one  of  the  unavoidable  places  along  that  great 
desert  highway,  where  freighters,  and  people  driving  private 
teams  had  to  stay  over  night,  as  well  as  the  tourist  or  traveller 
by  stage.  On  this  occasion  the  United  States  Marshal,  E.  S. 
Chase,  was  there  with  his  wife,  whom  I  had  met  several  times. 
It  seemed  wondrously  good  to  see  some  familiar  faces  in  such  a 
place,  and  to  feel  the  protection  of  one  having  such  authority. 
The  marshal  was  driving  his  own  team  across  the  coimtry  on  a 
business  trip  and  had  stopped  there  for  the  night. 


174         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Every  available  space  was  already  taken  and  Mr.  Chase  in- 
sisted on  surrendering  his  place  and  having  me  share  the  only 
private  room  with  Mrs.  Chase,  insisting  also  "that  the  room 
was  quite  safe  now."  "Quite  safe,"  I  queried,  "why,  Colonel, 
what  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Then  he  explained  that  a  big 
rattlesnake  had  just  been  found  in  the  room  and  a  dog  that  was 
good  at  catching  them  had  been  shut  in  the  room  to  get  the 
reptile.  The  excitement  had  been  intense  and  the  fight  be- 
tween the  two  had  been  a  lively  one,  while  the  noise  had  been 
like  a  couple  of  wild  animals  entrapped  there.  When  all  was 
still  the  door  was  cautiously  opened  and  the  snake  was  found 
lying  dead  in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  and  the  furniture  looked  as 
if  a  Nebraska  cyclone  had  demolished  it.  There  was  a  state 
of  wreckage  not  easily  restored.  The  dog  rushed  out  of  doors 
and  disappeared  as  it  always  did  after  being  bitten  by  a  snake, 
but  it  would  return  in  a  few  days.  Where  the  dog  would  go  on 
such  occasions  no  one  ever  knew,  but  probably  to  some  mud 
hole  far  away,  where  he  could  cure  himself.  It  gave  me  the 
"delirious  tremblins"  to  think  of  sleeping  in  the  house  at  all, 
but  the  chance  of  an  encounter  with  one  of  the  strikers  was 
after  all  much  less  in  the  house  than  outside  of  it.  If  I  had  to 
live  in  a  place  like  that  I  would  not  be  satisfied  with  one  dog  who 
had  such  a  snake-killing  reputation,  but  I  would  have  a  dozen 
of  them,  and  keep  my  pockets  full  of  sweets  so  they  would  always 
be  around  me  ready  for  business. 

The  next  morning  the  marshal  attended  to  my  seat  on  the 
coach  and  located  me  on  top  with  the  driver,  and  his  kindness  at 
that  time  has  never  been  forgotten,  but  in  other  ways  it  was  a 
night  to  forget  if  possible.  One  could  but  feel  sympathy  for 
the  woman  whose  lot  had  been  cast  in  such  a  place.  For  it  is 
the  women  who  suffer  most  in  pioneer  life.  The  poor,  hard- 
working woman  at  Big  Butte  was  but  one  of  many  on  our 
vast  frontier  who  toiled  without  rest.  My  heart  ached  for 
them,  and  a  word  or  two  of  sympathy  would  bring  the  tears 
to  their  eyes.  Their  husbands  were  not  always  cruel,  only  as 
they  were  cruelly  thoughtless  in  heaping  work  upon  them  and 
giving  them  no  rest,  no  help,  no  recreation,  but  keeping  up  the 
constant  grind  of  cooking,  cleaning,  and  making  beds  for  all 
kinds  of  people  who  pass  at  all  hours. 

In  all  the  thousands  of  miles  of  stage  travel  which  our  pioneer- 


Sensational  Return  to  Salt  Lake 


175 


ing  covered,  there  was  none  more  uncomfortable  and  disagree- 
able than  through  the  desert  lands  and  lava  beds  of  southern 
Idaho,  which  was  still  marked  on  the  school  maps  as  unexplored 
country.  The  alkali  in  the  soil  poured  into  the  nostrils  and 
throat  with  every  breath;  it  made  the  skin  sore  and  rough,  the 
eyes  sore,  and  even  irritated  the  disposition.  There  was  no 
escaping  the  pall  of  dust  that  enveloped  the  stage-coach  during 
the  long,  hot  summer,  and  penetrated  every  fold  of  clothing. 


"  The  fight  between  the  two  had  been  a  lively  one  " 

When  one  emerged  from  the  inner  depths  of  the  dust  laden 
coach  to  waken  his  dormant  muscles  by  a  few  moments'  rest  at 
a  station,  he  might  drop  in  the  road  and  not  be  seen  because  of  the 
unity  of  color  of  himself  and  the  mother-earth.  His  movements 
alone  identified  him  as  a  living  creature. 

When  passing  through  the  gamut  of  idle  spectators  who  block 
the  passages  when  the  stage  empties  itself  at  its  destination,  one 
feels  as  if  he  had  just  rolled  from  the  brake  beam  of  a  freight  car 
and  owned  no  claim  to  respectability  except  his  desire  to  hide, 
without  being  recognized.  Even  in  later  years  when  I  cross  that 
section  of  country  in  a  Pullman  car  I  want  to  sleep  and  forget 
such  trials  of  the  old  stage  days. 


CHAPTER   XV 
OMAHA  IN  THE  SEVENTIES 

I  OR  the  winter  of  '79 
we  settled  down  to  a 
quiet  orderly  life  in 
Omaha.  We  chose 
the  top  of  Farnham 
Street  hill  for  a  loca- 
tion, and  when  the  foundation  of  a  house  on  the  corner  of 
Eighteenth  Street  was  being  laid  we  set  a  snare  to  secure  the 
house  as  soon  as  it  was  finished. 

The  spot  was  then  far  from  the  busy  strife  of  the  commercial 
centre  of  the  town,  and  the  views  from  its  unimpeded  heights 
were  a  charm  not  easy  to  find  about  an  otherwise  level  country. 
No  one  dreamed  of  such  an  invasion  of  commerce  that  a  magnifi- 
cent court-house  would  some  day  grace  one  of  those  corners  and 
great  business  blocks  would  crowd  out  the  most  desirable  home 
centre  of  the  city.  No  one  thought  the  Omaha  Bee  would 
swarm  from  its  little  old  home  to  a  ten-story  hive  on  the  hilltop 
at  Eighteenth  Street,  but  Father  Time  is  a  wonderful  worker  in 
an  ambitious  city  and  transformations  are  wrought  which  no  one 
can  foretell.  Those  pretty  little  homes  that  once  graced  that 
proud  eminence  now  exist  only  in  "a  composite  picture"  in 
the  mind's  eye  hanging  in  mid-air  forty  feet  above  the  present 
street.  The  dear  old  hill  melted  away  under  the  pick  and  shovel 
to  its  present  level  and  Omaha  was  deprived  of  the  most  beauti- 
ful residence  quarter  of  the  city. 

The  Grand  Central  Hotel  was  destroyed  by  fire  and  for  many 
months  the  old  Metropolitan  Hotel,  kept  by  Ira  Wilson  on 
lower  Douglas  Street,  and  the  Httle  Withnell  House,  managed 
by  the  Kitchen  brothers,  were  the  only  hotels  worth  mention- 
ing. The  Metropolitan  was  an  old  ramble  shack  from  which 
we  were  glad  to  emerge  into  our  first  home,  and  we  went  about 
the  settlement  with  all  the  ardor  of  love's  first  nest. 

Pard  had  such  a  big  chest  of  notes  to  work  up  into  readable 

176 


Omaha  in  the  Seventies  177 

form  that  it  appeared  a  lifetime  task,  and  Mr.  Kimball,  General 
Manager  of  the  Union  Pacific,  was  in  need  of  his  information 
almost  every  hour  at  Union  Pacific  headquarters.  I  was  eager 
to  be  anchored  in  a  home,  and  the  combination  worked  well 
toward  a  season  of  home  life  for  us. 

Omaha  was  not  attractive  for  climatic  reasons,  if  it  was 
for  others.  The  terrific  sandstorms  were  a  terror  to  a  house- 
wife, its  bottomless  streets  were  a  menace  to  commerce  in  the 
wet  season,  and  in  the  sultry  season  the  thunder-storms  were  of 
such  violence  that  the  lightning  was  like  fiery-headed  demons 
coming  out  of  earth  and  sky,  flashing  into  every  window,  while 
pounding  on  every  door  and  roof  the  thunder  chased  in  a 
maddening  din  from  which  there  was  no  escape. 

The  Missouri  River  valley  is  ever  noted  for  its  wild  storms 
which  follow  the  stream  and  play  such  havoc  along  its  lands. 
They  even  drove  the  river  from  its  bed,  and  not  infrequently 
turned  it  out  of  the  State.  At  one  time  during  that  winter  the 
wind  blew  so  hard  for  forty-eight  hours  that  a  special  policeman 
patrolled  every  block  in  town  to  watch  for  fires,  and  women 
were  not  allowed  on  the  streets  at  all. 

In  looking  over  letters  sent  to  friends  in  those  days,  or  during 
our  visits  to  Omaha,  there  is  scarcely  one  of  them  that  does 
not  give  record  of  some  awful  storm.  At  one  time  not  less  than 
500  feet  of  track  was  not  only  washed  out  in  Council  Bluffs,  and 
ties  and  rails  carried  into  neighboring  fields,  but  the  road  bed 
was  under  four  and  five  feet  of  water.  The  bridge  across  an 
arm  of  the  river  at  Council  Bluffs  was  carried  out  and  we  walked 
on  the  top  of  freight  cars  to  a  temporary  ferry  boat  to  cross  to 
Omaha.  It  was  not  unusual  for  water  to  be  several  feet  deep 
in  some  of  the  streets  near  the  river. 

The  Missouri  River  made  history  in  Nebraska  faster  than 
any  other  factor.  Since  the  settlement  of  that  State  it  has  lost 
more  towns  in  its  adjustment  to  the  river  and  to  civilization  than 
any  other  State  in  the  Union.  Some  of  the  towns  were  wiped 
out  by  the  river  suddenly  changing  its  bed,  or  by  gradually 
pilfering  the  land  until  a  town  had  to  be  abandoned. 

When  the  Union  Pacific  Railroad  was  built  the  town  of 
Decatur  was  selected  as  headquarters  for  the  company  and  the 
location  for  the  Missouri  bridge, — but  before  the  work  was  under 
way  so  many  town  lots  had  been  swallowed  by  the  river  that  the 


178         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


company  changed  its  location  to  Florence,  and  then  Omaha. 
Most  of  Decatur  is  now  in  the  river  bed. 

For  a  time  Florence  had  more  population  than  Omaha,  of 
which  it  was  a  formidable  rival.  It  was  on  the  Mormon  route 
to  Utah  and  was  the  western  point  of  the  heaviest  immigration. 
It  was  the  Union  Pacific's  change  to  Omaha  that  depleted  the 
population  from  5000  to  a  deserted  village.  Many  towns  were 
wiped  out  because  of  change  of  county  seats,  and  many  more 
were  abandoned  because  railroads  decided  to  take  other  routes 
than  the  old  stage  trail. 

The  first  Territorial  legislature  met  in  1855  at  Archer,  the 
county  seat  of  Richardson  County.     The  earliest  settlers  there 


"  When  Pard  went  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  he  had  to  cross  the  Missouri 
at  Omaha  on  a  ferryboat " 

were  mostly  intermarried  with  squaws  who  raised  large  families. 
Later,  when  the  Government  put  into  effect  the  reservation 
method  of  caring  for  the  Indians,  it  set  aside  a  domain  in  Richard- 
son County  and  Archer  was  left  on  a  reservation.  Its  army  post 
was  abandoned,  the  State  buildings  left  unoccupied,  railroads 
passed  it  by,  and  soon  its  white  population  moved  to  other 
localities. 

A  large  number  of  the  lost  towns  of  Nebraska  were  located 
along  the  great  overland  routes.  The  old  Mormon  trail  followed 
the  Platte  River's  windings.  There  was  the  California  trail, 
the  line  blazed  by  the  miners  who  took  part  in  the  Pike's  Peak 


Omaha  in  the  Seventies  179 

gold  rush,  and  the  trails  followed  by  the  freighters  and  pony 
express  riders.  All  of  these  converged  at  Fort  Kearney,  mid- 
way across  the  State;  beyond  that  was  the  hostile  Indian  coun- 
try, and  safety  lay  in  travelling  in  numbers.  When  the  Union 
Pacific  Railroad  came  through  it  killed  freighting  on  the  plains, 
practically  every  one  of  the  trail  towns  disappeared  within  a  few 
months  except  Fort  Kearney,  and  even  that  had  dropped  the 
Fort  and  became  just  plain  Kearney,  but  it  is  a  town  to  be  proud 
of  just  the  same. 

When  Pard  went  to  the  Rocky  Mountains  in  1870  he  had  to 
cross  the  Missouri  at  Omaha  on  a  ferry  boat  and  Omaha  was  just 
getting  fairly  well  on  the  map,  while  Denver  had  only  4900 
people.  Our  beautiful  Spokane  and  Tacoma  were  not  even 
started,  Seattle  was  only  a  lumber  camp,  and  Minneapolis  yet 
to  be  built.  Pretty  much  everything  was  wilderness  north  and 
south  of  the  single  railroad  across  the  continent  where  there 
are  now  eight  trans-continental  roads,  and  the  vast  growth  and 
commercial  interests  of  eight  newly  constituted  States. 

There  was  no  street  paving,  and  the  soil  around  about  Omaha 
is  of  that  adobe  nature  that  when  wet  will  hold  all  that  any  one 
can  give  it,  whether  it  is  a  foot,  a  rubber,  or  a  wagon  wheel.  I 
was  convinced  that  there  was  greater  affinity  between  molecules 
of  Omaha  mud  than  any  other  known  substance.  There  were 
but  few  crosswalks  and  a  novice  in  navigation  in  that  river  town 
could  get  into  trouble  in  a  hurry.  One  of  my  own  experiences  was 
a  ludicrous  one.  It  had  rained  furiously  for  two  or  three  hours, 
but  the  sun  followed  with  a  clear  sky.  I  did  not  yet  know  the 
mud  was  such  a  mortal  enemy  to  pedestrians,  and  I  sallied 
happily  out,  quite  smartly  dressed,  and  was  halted  at  the  very 
first  crossing.  The  first  thing  I  knew  I  was  standing  as  firmly 
rooted  to  the  spot  as  if  I  had  grown  there.  I  wiggled  and  wrig- 
gled and  twisted  until  one  foot  was  loose,  only  to  find  the  other 
one  in  the  mud  twice  as  deep.  I  pulled  my  feet  from  my  rubbers 
and  hoped  to  get  back  on  to  firm  ground,  but  alas!  I  was  hope- 
lessly stranded  until  kind  Providence  sent  a  strong  deliverer  to 
pry  me  out.  It  looked  to  me  as  if  I  covered  the  most  of  the 
five  foot  sidewalk,  for  the  mud  would  not  drop  off  my  boots, 
but  simply  multiplied  itself  with  my  every  effort  to  escape  until 
it  was  cut  off.  I  went  home  tired  out,  warm,  and  ruffled,  but 
I  had  learned  my  lesson.    I,  perhaps,  ought  to  have  known  better 


i8o        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

for  I  had  often  watched  from  our  windows  at  the  Grand  Central 
Hotel  the  struggles  of  horses  and  vehicles  to  get  through  the  prin- 
cipal city  streets  where  Ihey  were  frequently  held  for  hours  in 
the  adobe  clutch. 

There  were  no  water  works  in  the  town  except  a  few  private 
tanks  where  water  was  pumped  up  from  wells.  There  was  a 
great  deal  of  talk  about  water  works  that  winter,  but  they  did 
not  know  how  to  utilize  that  Missouri  River,  with  its  twenty  per 
cent,  of  mud,  and  there  was  no  other  available  source.     There 


General  Fremont,  the  great  pathfinder,  and  his  wife 
must  be  more  water,  or  better  water,  in  Phillipsburg,  Montana, 
for  we  received  a  paper  from  there  saying  the  people  were  liv- 
ing on  water  and  Strahorn's  Resources,  the  title  they  gave  Pard's 
latest  booklet  on  Montana. 

The  crows  were  so  thick  in  Omaha  that  the  ground  would 
often  be  black  with  them,  and  their  incessant  caw-caw  was  a 
torture  to  the  nerves.  When  a  flock  of  them  would  Hght  upon  a 
roof  their  claws  would  rattle  like  hailstones,  and  one  often  wished 
them  to  emigrate  to  other  lands,  and  wondered  what  they  found 
so  attractive  in  that  locality.     You  could  not  stone  them  for 


Omaha  in  the  Seventies 


i8i 


there  were  no  stones  in  or  around  Omaha.  In  fact,  Nebraska 
is  wonderfully  free  from  stones  everywhere.  A  country  doctor  is 
never  afraid  of  striking  a  rock  as  he  drives  to  his  patient  in  the 
black  hours  of  the  night,  but  there  are  times  when  he  may  drop 
into  a  mud-hole  from  which  he  may  have  to  swim  out. 

One  of  the  gayest  times  that  Omaha  ever  had  was  when 
ex-President  Grant  was  there  in  '79.  There  was  a  big  parade, 
with  many  bands,  and  a  reception  in  the  old  customs  house 
where  everybody  held  him  by  the  hand  for  one  brief  second. 
After  our  turn  we  got  off  in  a 
corner  with  General  Crook  and 
some  of  his  lieutenants  to  watch 
the  crowd. 

Only  a  few  weeks  before  we 
had  come  from  Cheyenne  on 
the  same  train  with  General 
Fremont,  and  General  Crook 
had  met  him  at  the  train  to 
pay  all  possible  deference  to 
the  aging  pathfinder  of  west- 
em  territories.  We  did  not 
ourselves  realize  at  that  time 
what  an  important  factor  he 
was  in  the  settlement  of  this 
great  western  land,  but  in  sub- 
sequent travels  we  found  his 
early  monuments  marking  im- 
portant places  and  epochs  that 
are  now  enclosed  in  our  nation's 
history,  and  his  name  as  hon- 
ored as  that  of  Lewis  and  Clark,  who  did  so  much  for  the  de- 
velopment of  Oregon  and  Washington.  General  Crook  was  loud 
in  the  praises  of  the  pathfinder. 

There  was  an  interesting  episode  in  the  lives  of  General  and 
Mrs.  Crook  that  has  never  been  given  much  pubHcity  but  it  was 
important  to  them.  It  was  during  the  War  of  the  Rebellion 
that  the  general  first  met  his  wife  who  was  then  a  southern  belle 
and  a  devoted  adherent  to  the  Southern  cause.  The  young 
officer  fell  in  love  at  first  sight  and  made  bold  advances  into  the 
enemies'  lines  to  see  the  fair  maid.    The  beautiful  Southern 


General  and  Mrs.  George  A.  Crook 


i82        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage     • 

inamorata  did  not  so  readily  yield  to  cupid's  dart  and  she  deliber- 
ately planned  a  ball  at  her  father's  house  to  which  several  of  the 
Northern  officers  were  invited  and  assured  of  protection.  They 
were  no  sooner  in  the  midst  of  the  gaities  of  the  evening,  how- 
ever, than  the  house  was  surrounded  by  Confederate  soldiers 
and  the  officers  of  Uncle  Sam  were  made  prisoners  of  war.  It 
was  not  until  she  looked  into  her  young  lover's  eyes  as  he  was 
being  taken  away  that  she  realized  the  enormity  of  her  beguiling. 
She  knew  in  that  moment  that  she  loved  the  man  whom  she 
had  betrayed  and  was  sending  to  Libby  Prison.  From  that 
moment  she  began  doing  penance  and  she  did  not  desist  in  her 
efforts  to  undo  her  work  until  she  had  made  him  free  again. 
They  were  married  at  the  close  of  the  war  and  lived  happy  ever 
after  but  she  never  enjoyed  having  that  affair  referred  to. 

Omaha  was  not  without  its  quota  of  newspapers,  but  the 
leaders  then  were  the  Omaha  Republican  and  the  Omaha  Bee,  the 
latter  with  that  aggressive  and  progressive  Rosewater  as  its 
owner  and  business  manager.  The  Republican  was  managed 
by  C.  E.  Yost,  who  was  not  only  a  capable  and  efficient  man, 
and  is  now  the  general  manager  of  the  Nebraska  Telephone 
Company,  but  at  that  time  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Yost  were  the  hand- 
somest couple  in  Omaha.  Their  beauty  was  not  confined  to 
their  forms  and  features,  but  their  general  lives  were  in  keep- 
ing and  they  were  loved  and  admired  for  their  personal  quali- 
fications. The  Republican  was  sold  a  few  years  later  to  S.  P. 
Rounds,  the  Public  Printer  of  Washington,  D.  C. 

The  Union  Pacific  headquarters  were  on  the  corner  of  Farn- 
ham  and  Ninth  streets;  they  employed  fewer  men  for  all 
departments  of  the  work  than  they  now  have  in  the  Auditing  De- 
partment alone.  Yet  Mr.  C.  S.  Stebbins,  who  is  now  assistant 
to  the  auditor  is  about  the  only  one  left  there  of  the  force  whom 
we  knew  so  well.  In  the  year  '79  Thomas  L.  Kimball  was  made 
General  Passenger  and  Ticket  Agent  of  the  Kansas  Pacific  Com- 
pany, as  it  had  become  a  part  of  the  Union  Pacific  system,  and 
the  advertising  for  the  newly  acquired  branch  was  added  to 
Pard's  department.  Mr.  Kimball  was  soon  thereafter  made 
General  Manager  of  the  whole  system  and  he  was  sincerely 
loved  by  all  those  who  were  under  him,  yet  he  was  a  man  demand- 
ing the  duties  of  his  employees  to  be  well  and  accurately  done. 
He  was  our  good  patron  saint  who  not  only  opened  up  the 


Omaha  in  the  Seventies 


183 


Opportunities  for  a  life  of  greater  usefulness,  but  he  smoothed 
many  a  rough  road  by  his  kindly  approbation  of  the  work  being 
done. 

Pard  had  two  able  assistants  in  his  office  work,  in  cx)rre- 
spondence,  compiling  time-tables  and  doing  local  work,  who  have 
so  risen  in  the  Hme-light  of  affairs  that  they  must  have  well-nigh 


Thomas  L.  Kimball 


forgotten  that  long  stormy  winter,  were  it  not  for  the  heart  ties 
that  the  association  cemented.  They  also  became  members 
of  our  home  circle,  and  left  an  indelible  impression  of  their 
worth.  One,  Mr.  T.  W.  Blackburn,  who  had  long  been  in  the 
newspaper  field,  and  was  ably  fitted  for  an  assistant  in  literary 
work,  has  since  then  become  one  of  the  legal  lights  of  Omaha. 
The  other  was  the  Hon.  Chas.  S.  Gleed,  of  Kansas  City,  one 
of  the  most  widely  known  and  highly  successful  men  in  the  af- 
fairs of  the  State  of  his  adoption.   His  rattling  cane  was  ever  a 


1 84         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

welcome  sound,  for  it  betokened  the  coming  of  a  ray  of  sunlight 
and  cheery  companionship  wherever  he  entered.  His  life  had 
not  been  a  happy  one  and  it  was  still  full  of  sorrows  and  unsolved 
problems  that  he  must  work  out  to  successful  issue.  Coming 
home  from  his  busy  office  day  he  would  hide  himself  in  his  room 
with  his  old  Stradivarius,  and  weird  and  plaintive  melodies 
would  float  through  the  house  for  hours  while  he  scarcely  knew 
what  he  was  doing.  Down  on  the  broad  of  his  back,  with  the 
room  as  dark  as  midnight,  he  drew  the  bow  across  the  strings  in 
melancholy  pleadings  until  his  mind  found  peace  again,  then 
with  a  lively  reel,  or  a  gay  patrol  to  tell  of  his  return  to  mental 
equiHbrium  he  would  appear  all  smiles  and  joyousness,  as  if 
he  had  not  a  care  in  the  world.  Early  in  life  he  had  learned  to 
hide  his  own  unrest  in  his  work  for  the  happiness  of  others,  and 
he  had  learned  the  lesson  to  a  degree  that  few  people  achieve. 
There  was  a  brief  sketch  of  him  in  Scribner's  Magazine  in  1905 
that  should  be  read  by  every  young  man  of  the  day  who  thinks 
his  own  lot  is  a  hard  one,  for  in  its  pages  he  would  learn  what 
earnest  and  persistent  endeavor  can  accomplish  under  most 
adverse  circumstances. 

The  restlessness  of  the  springtime  took  forceful  possession 
of  our  household.  Pard  was  pining  for  his  beloved  Colorado  and 
to  flee  from  the  desk  work  which  was  undermining  his  health. 
Mr.  Blackburn  had  been  so  imbued  with  the  connubial  bliss  in 
our  family  that  he  wanted  to  follow  the  example  and  take  unto 
himself  a  wife. 

Mr.  Gleed  and  Pard  had  been  laid  up  with  mumps  for  several 
weeks  and  I  myself  was  anxious  to  get  Pard  out  into  the  hills. 
Mr.  Gleed,  therefore,  took  charge  of  the  Kansas  City  office,  and 
thus  took  his  first  steps  in  becoming  a  director  and  the  foremost 
legal  light  of  the  Atchison,  Topeka,  and  Santa  Fe  Railway.  Mr. 
Blackburn  bought  our  household  effects  and  took  possession  of 
our  home  with  his  June  day  bride,  and  Pard  was  allowed  to 
transfer  the  Literary  Department  work  to  Denver.  Thus  the 
three  tillicums  separated,  each  to  build  for  himself  as  no  man 
knew.  Each  one  flapped  his  wings  and  plumed  himself  for  new 
and  more  arduous  work,  yet  with  wider  fields  for  conquest. 

It  was  a  joy,  indeed,  to  flee  from  the  hot  bed  of  the  smother- 
ing Missouri  valley  to  the  cool,  sweet  air  of  Denver,  and  as  soon 
as  Pard's  office  was  well  established  in  the  new  stone  Union 


Omaha  in  the  Seventies 


185 


Pacific  depot  building  there  we  departed  for  the  mountains  and 
began  the  most  strenuous  year  of  our  travels. 

Mr.  George  Ady  was  the  General  Agent  of  the  Union  Pacific 
at  Denver,  and  his  assistant  was  none  other  than  the  now  noted 
author,  Francis  Lynde.  No  one  for  a  moment  thought  that  gay 
Lothario  would  ever  evolve  into  an  author  and  a  minister,  and 
be  the  head  of  a  household  with  six  to  call  him  father.  It  would 
have  been  the  doublet  of  Jekyl  and  Hyde  not  to  be  thought  of. 
No  one  would  have  believed  in  the  sleeping  talent  lying  under  the 
gay  exterior  of  the  young  secretary. 

Even  when  we  saw  him  standing  in  clerical  gown  in  the  little 
chapel  at  the  foot  of  Lookout  Mountain,  in  Chattanooga,  the 
thought  kept  welling  up  within  us:  "What  hath  God  wrought 
in  this  man?"  Up  in  his  "eagle  nest"  home  hanging  over  the 
mountainside  he  had  his  little  brood  most  happily  housed,  and 
around  his  grounds  a  high. stone  wall  which  he  had  himself  built 
as  an  exercise  and  rest  from  long  hours  at  his  desk.  His  study 
was  also  his  own  handiwork,  built  of  stone  in  a  secluded  corner 
of  his  shaded  grounds,  so  that  the  attractions  of  scenery  or 
company,  or  other  disturbing  or  distracting  elements  might  be 
shut  out  from  view  while  he  wove  the  web  of  romance  for  his 
many  admiring  friends. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

IN  THE  ROCKIES  AGAIN.     COLORADO  SPRINGS,  MANITOU, 
PIKE'S  PEAK,  ETC. 


UMMERTIMEofi88o 
was  a  season  when  rail- 
roads were  being  so 
rapidly  constructed  in 
Colorado  that  they 
seemed  born  of  magic. 
One  of  the  best 
equipped  railroads  in 
the  State  was  the 
*' Denver  and  Rio  Grande*'  leading  south  to  Alamosa,  Canyon 
City,  and  on  to  Leadville.  The  road  had  two  terminals  on  the 
southern  border  of  the  State :  one  branching  eastward  from 
Cucharas  to  Elmoro,  one  west  over  La  Veta  Pass  to  Garland. 

The  road  was  narrow  gauge  because  it  was  believed  then 
that  the  narrow  gauge  track  was  the  only  safe  and  feasible  one 
for  cliff  climbing.  It  is  only  by  expensive  experience  that  the 
richest  blessings  fall,  and  this  tentative  method  disclosed  the 
fact  that  there  are  no  impossibilities  in  railroad  building,  and 
the  standard  gauge  now  creeps  along  in  its  serpentine  trail  as 
safely  as  any,  and  it  has  crowded  out  the  trail  of  lesser  dimen- 
sions that  was  first  hailed  with  such  joy.  The  ride  from  Denver 
to  Colorado  Springs  was  like  a  picture  book  wherein  every  mile 
turned  a  new  leaf  disclosing  greater  beauties  of  nature. 

Colorado  even  in  the  early  '8o's  had  a  perfect  system  of 
irrigation,  rendering  every  summer's  crop  a  success  and  envelop- 
ing its  watered  slopes  in  robes  of  perpetual  green.  The  long 
swards  were  topped  by  crowns  of  lofty  pines  that  gave  the  land- 
scape an  appearance  of  some  grand  park. 

The  previous  winter  snows  had  been  so  light  that  old  Pike's 
Peak  was  now  for  once  without  her  snow  bonnet,  and  she  shook 
her  dark  tresses  with  coaxing  coquetry  to  lure  tourists  to  her 

i86 


In  the  Rockies  Again 


187 


pinnacle  to  view  the  daily  performances  of  the  sun  in  its  settings 
of  scarlet  and  gold. 

There  was  no  easy  way  to  the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak,  but  a 
long  weary  stumbling  ride  on  horseback,  and  on  foot  for  the  last 
part  of  the  way,  to  be  caught  in  storms  without  shelter  and 
to  endure  fatigue,  bruises,  and  exposure  that  modem  tourists 
know  not  of.  But  it  was  something  to  accomplish,  wonderful  to 
see,  and  when  done  something  to  be  thankful  for.  But  what  is 
there  worth  having  that  one  does  not  have  to  strive  for  ? 

The  old  Cliff  House  at  Manitou,  surrounded  by  towering 
battlements  of  stone,  was  the  favorite  resort  for  summer  guests, 


•  Top  of  Pike*s  Peak 

and  the  two  Concord  coaches  from  the  trains  at  Colorado 
Springs  six  miles  away  were  fairly  well  loaded  with  human  freight 
that  came  to  enjoy  the  most  famous  scenic  resort  then  known, 
and  the  steam  cars  did  not  make  their  first  run  into  Manitou 
until  about  the  middle  of  July  of  that  summer  of  '80. 

In  front  of  the  Cliff  House  a  constantly  playing  fountain  made 
music  with  the  flowing  waters,  and  just  on  beyond,  through  a 
shady  lane,  were  the  iron,  sulphur,  and  soda  springs.  The  drives 
through  the  Garden  of  the  Gods  were  unsullied  by  man's  con- 
nivances, and  every  mile  gave  its  impress  of  the  mightiness  of 
God's  work.  Monument  Park,  the  famous  Ute  Pass,  and  the 
Mesa  Drive  were  all  trips  of  interest,  but  there  were  two  other 


i88         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

excursions  that  exceeded  them  all  in  grandeur  and  startling 
revelations. 

One  of  these  was  up  the  Cheyenne  Canyon,  and  the  other  was 
through  Williams'  Canyon  and  cave.  Williams'  Canyon  is  formed 
of  walls  of  limestone  of  most  wonderful  formations  in  all  stages  of 
decomposition.  There  is  very  little  verdure  either  on  the  top  or 
sides  and  only  a  few  scrubby  pines  broke  the  rugged  rocky  face 
of  the  narrow  defile. 

A  quarter  of  a  mile  in  the  canyon  from  Manitou  stands  a 
lime  kiln  that  was  slowly  utilizing  the  massive  structures  around 
it.  The  owner  of  this  fiery  furnace  had  a  history.  He  had 
served  in  armies  of  three  different  nations;  spent  three  years  in 
Asia,  two  years  in  India,  several  seasons  in  the  diamond  fields 
of  Africa,  a  few  months  in  South  America,  and  was  master  of 
many  languages.  He  was  not  only  doing  a  prosperous  business 
with  his  lime  kiln,  but  he  also  was  the  trusty  guide  through  the 
Williams'  Canyon  mammoth  cave,  which  was  a  gold  mine  to  him. 

The  cave  was  half  a  mile  up  the  canyon.  To  reach  the  en- 
trance one  must  first  mount  a  flight  of  steps,  and  then  with 
steady  head  and  firm  grasping  of  projecting  stones  scale  along 
the  slippery  trail  that  was  too  narrow  for  more  than  one  to  pass 
at  a  time,  and  where  a  little  slip  might  send  one  rolling  down 
with  loose  gravel  and  sand  for  two  hundred  feet.  The  hole  that 
formed  the  doorway  was  six  feet  high,  and  two  feet  and  a  half 
wide.  At  first  there  was  a  gradual  incline  of  about  ten  feet,  at 
the  bottom  of  which  the  guide  provided  us  with  little  miners' 
lamps.  It  fairly  chills  one  to  think  of  the  deep,  dark  holes  that 
were  on  either  side.  The  first  part  of  the  cave  was  fifteen  feet 
wide,  and  the  widest  place  in  it  would  not  exceed  thirty  feet, 
while  the  narrowest  would  just  admit  the  body  sideways ;  the 
height  and  depth  seemed  without  end.  Often  we  were  obliged 
to  ascend  or  descend  a  stairway  of  a  dozen  steps,  and  at  one  place 
we  went  down  forty-five  steps. 

A  formation  called  the  Chimney  Hole  was  raised  some  six 
feet  from  the  walk;  it  was  pyramidal  in  form  and  at  its  base  it 
was  ten  feet  across.  It  was  hollowed  out  so  that  the  sides  were 
only  about  five  inches  in  thickness,  and  as  it  appeared  at  the 
top  the  hole  was  not  more  than  two  feet  in  diameter.  Its  height 
was  incalculable.  We  could  not  even  see  what  held  it  suspended 
in  its  position.     At  another  place  a  narrow  shelf  projected  over 


In  the  Rockies  Again 


189 


a  deep  chasm  which  seemed  to  have  no  bottom.  Just  above 
this  narrow  shelf  the  wall  bulged  out  so  that  in  crossing  over 
one  was  forced  to  bend  his  body  forward  and  gaze  into  the 
blackness  of  the  abyss.  I  hesitated  and  was  the  last  to  cross, 
but  to  remain  behind  with  the  bats  and  goblins  seemed  worse 
than  to  venture  on.     I  can  never  forget  my  sensations  as  I 


:^^^^ 


Hagerman  Pass,  Colo.,  11,500  feet  above  sea  level 


edged  my  way  along  with  my  heart  in  my  throat  thumping  so 
that  it  choked  me  and  I  wished  for  home  and  mother;  but  a 
glance  at  Pard  with  his  smile  of  assurance  gave  me  new  courage, 
and  I  knew  by  his  deathlike  grip  of  my  hand  that  if  I  went  down 
my  fingers  would  remain  with  him  as  mementoes  of  the  exploit. 
I  would  have  given  all  my  possessions  except  my  dear  old  Pard 
to  have  been  afforded  some  other  way  of  getting  back  than  to  re- 
cross  that  shelving  rock.  Thoughts  of  that  black,  bottomless 
pit  underneath  it  give  me  the  shivers  to  this  day. 

The  Auger  Hole  was  so  named  because  of  its  literal  resem- 
blance to  a  hole  made  with  an  auger.  It  was  perfectly  round, 
some  thirty  inches  in  diameter,  and  seventy-five  feet  long.  Some 
fifteen  feet  from  the  entrance  of  the  Auger  Hole  there  were  two 
caves  opening  at  right  angles.     We  had  to  get  down  and  crawl 


190         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Copyright  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

Cheyenne  Falls 


like  a  worm  through  the 
Auger  Hole  for  that  fif- 
teen feet  to  where  the  cave 
opened  out  again,  and  had 
the  distance  been  the 
whole  length  of  the  Auger 
Hole  I  would  be  there  yet, 
for  I  reached  my  limit  of 
muscular  propulsion  in  the 
fifteen  feet  that  brought 
us  to  the  first  exit. 

Our  little  glimmers  cast 
fantastic  and  cadaverous 
shadows  all  about  us,  and 
our  fancies  ran  wildly  over 
the  possibility  of  being 
swallowed  by  some  yawn- 
ing abyss  or  crushed  be- 
neath relentless  walls  of 
stone.  We  had  not  gone 
more  than  half  a  mile 
beyond  the  Auger  Hole 
before  the  cave  was  so 
wet  that  we  turned  back, 
and  never  did  God's  sun- 
shine seem  so  dear  to  me 
as  when  we  emerged  from 
that  exploration. 

We  were  indebted  to 
Mr.  George  Palmer  of  Col- 
orado Springs  for  some 
very  pretty  stalactites. 
To  have  his  name  among 
the  immortals  he  lay  face 
downward  upon  the  earth 
and  taking  his  dim  light 
wormed  himself  inch  by 
inch  under  a  massive  boul- 
der to  reach  another  part 
of  the  cave  and  obtain  the 


In  the  Rockies  Again  191 

/aluable  specimens.  He  was  quite  exhausted  on  his  return  and 
declared  the  trip  came  nearer  making  him  immortal  than  he 
thought  the  venture  at  first  promised. 

Cheyenne  Canyon's  beauty  and  grandeur  lie  in  its  high 
walls  and  Seven  Falls.  When  in  nearly  a  mile  from  the  en- 
trance of  the  canyon  we  could  see  three  of  the  falls  at  one  time 
and  forming  a  perfect  half  circle  around  them  rose  the  mighty 
walls  four  hundred  feet,  as  perpendicular  as  the  most  critical 
masonry  could  form  them. 

We  were  not  satisfied  with  seeing  three  falls,  for  we  had 
travelled  far  to  see  seven.  So  we  wheezed  and  puffed  and  climbed 
a  thousand  feet  above  the  stream,  and  from  our  dizzy  height  saw 
a  panorama  never  to  be  forgotten.  Far  below  each  cascade  fell 
into  its  rock- worn  bed  and  forced  its  way  over  the  edge  and  on  to 
the  precipice  beyond.  Away  over  the  foothills  we  saw  hundreds 
of  miles  of  the  bright  prairie  lands,  and  on  the  other  hand  rose 
peaks  that  had  won  the  upward  race  over  the  one  that  formed 
our  resting  place.  To  scale  these  heights  and  view  these  low- 
lands, and  see  what  God  hath  wrought  in  this  wonderland  of  the 
Rockies  is  to  hold  one  spellbound  with  awe,  wonder,  admiration, 
and  adoration,  and  to  thank  God  for  sight  and  understanding 
and  for  the  privilege  of  being  there. 


I 


CHAPTER  XVII 
NEW  MEXICO,  SANTE  FE,  AND  THE  PUEBLOS 

.ROM  Colorado  Springs 
we  went  south  to  the 
Denver  and  Rio  Grande 
terminal  at  Trinidad, 
thence  by  stage  six 
miles  back  to  Elmoro, 
to  connect  with  the 
Atchison,  Topeka,  and 
Santa  Fe  road  for  Santa 
Fe  City  in  New  Mexico. 
At  Elmoro  the  Santa  Fe 
road  crossed  the  Rio 
Grande  Railway,  but  it 
allowed  no  passengers  to 
get  on  or  off  because 
of  the  Santa  Fe  enmity 
toward  the  Rio  Grande 
Company.  At  Trinidad  Pard  and  I  were  given  the  bridal 
chamber,  and  the  other  four  of  our  party  were  in  a  distant  part 
of  the  house.  They  had  no  locks  on  their  doors  and  barricaded 
them  with  the  furniture  of  the  room  and  had  a  good  night's 
rest,  but  with  us  it  was  different.  Our  door  was  locked  all  right 
but  too  many  intruders  were  already  inside,  and  small  as  they 
were  they  made  a  night  of  misery  for  us.  Trinidad  then  had 
about  4000  inhabitants. 

Twelve  miles  south  there  was  a  long  steady  climb  up  the 
Raton  Mountains,  to  the  famous  Raton  Tunnel,  some  2500  feet 
long.  The  arched  walls  vibrated  with  the  motion  of  the  iron 
horse,  but  their  rocky  hands  were  too  firmly  clasped  to  yield 
to  even  such  a  power  and  we  merged  into  daylight  from  the  tun- 
nel's black  chamber,  and  wound  down  the  serpentine  road  to  the 
valley  below  with  a  grade  of  two  hundred  feet  to  the  mile,  the 
heaviest  grade  on  any  main  line  American  railroad  at  that  time. 

192 


New  Mexico,  Santa  F^,  and  the  Pueblos  193 

At  Las  Vegas,  N.  M.,  the  famous  hot  springs  were  some  miles 
from  the  town.  Nature  had  done  her  share  toward  making  the 
springs  famous.  There  were  twenty  of  them  boiling  up  along  the 
hillside,  and  the  little  park  of  seventy-five  acres  was  completely 
environed  by  low  mountains  that  were  green  from  base  to  summit. 

A  small  river  crossed  on  one  side  of  the  park,  and  on  its 
bank  stood  a  three-story  hotel  with  porticoes  running  the  entire 
length  of  each  story.  Across  the  river  and  connected  with  an 
artistic  bridge  and  broad  walk  was  the  mammoth  bathhouse. 


Santa  Fe  in  1879 

This  also  was  of  stone  and  two  hundred  feet  long.  The  tempera- 
ture of  the  springs  was  from  100  to  140  degrees;  the  water  was 
clear  and  strongly  sulphuric,  while  the  analysis  was  similar  to 
the  Arkansas  hot  springs. 

Midday  was  very  warm,  but  the  nights  were  cold  and  flies 
were  unknown.  An  amusing  feattu-e  of  the  place  was  the 
squaws  and  Mexican  women  doing  laundry  work  at  two  of  the 
springs  reserved  especially  for  them.  They  used  broad,  smooth 
stones  for  their  washboards,  and  after  dipping  and  rubbing 
awhile  they  suspended  the  clothing  in  the  hot  springs  to  boil  or 
soak,  and  it  came  out  as  pure  and  white  as  the  driven  snow. 

At  Santa  Fe  I  really  begrudged  the  time  to  sleep  or  eat, 
there  was  so  much  to  see  and  study  in  the  glorified  silvery  haired 
city.  "Santa  F^"  means  "holy  faith"  and  the  many  spires  of 
13 


194         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Catholic  churches  pointing  toward  heaven,  together  with  the 
early  establishment  of  that  holy  faith  doubtless  gave  the  city  its 
name.  The  town  is  7000  feet  above  sea-level,  with  pleasant 
summers  and  mild  winters,  but  it  often  has  electrical  disturb- 
ance of  its  atmosphere  that  will  interrupt  telegraph  lines  for 
several  hours  at  a  time. 

How  old  the  place  is  will  probably  never  be  known,  as  it 
was  the  home  of  the  Aztecs  for  many  years  before  Christopher 
Columbus  sighted  America,  and  it  is  still  disputing  its  right  with 

St.  Augustine  in 
Florida  for  the 
honor  of  being  the 
oldest  town  in  the 
United  States.  It 
was  a  populous 
place  when  the 
Spaniards  entered 
it  in  1542. 

The  oldest 
house  known  was 
built  by  Coron- 
ado  in  1540.  It 
was  but  twelve 
feet  in  height,  but 
built  in  two  stories 
of  adobe  brick. 
It  was  sixty  feet 
long  and  fifteen 
feet  wide;  it  was 
families,  and  it  looked  as  if  good 


North  Pueblo  near  Santa  Fe 


occupied   by  five  Mexican 
for  another  century  or  two. 

In  the  adjoining  yard  was  the  famous  San  Miguel  Church. 
Its  tower  had  long  since  fallen  to  the  ground,  and  the  adobe  was 
crumbling.  Upon  entering  the  church  we  saw  a  beam  overhead 
bearing  the  inscription  that  the  church  was  rebuilt  in  18 10.  It 
was  first  built  in  1582,  but  the  original  roof  was  burned  off  by 
the  Indians.  The  walls  are  the  same  to-day  as  they  were  three 
hundred  years  ago,  and  two  of  the  paintings  that  adorn  the  walls 
were  brought  from  Spain,  and  were  said  to  be  at  least  a  hundred 
years  older  than  the  church. 


New  Mexico,  Santa  Fd,  and  the  Pueblos  195 


I 


The  front  yard  and  the  ground  of  the  interior  of  the  old 
church  were  filled  with  graves  of  unknown  dead,  and  thus  it 
was  with  all  the  old  churches  there.  Brother  Baldwin  took 
great  care  in  showing  the  building  and  the  college  near  by, 
from  the  tower  of  which  we  had  a  fine  view  of  Santa  F^. 

The  town  was  built  around  a  plaza  in  the  true  Spanish  style ; 
its  houses  were  mostly  one-story  adobes,  and  the  streets  were  so 
narrow  that  a  horse  and  buggy  standing  crosswise  would  entirely 
obstruct  the  pas- 
sage. The  plaza 
is  what  we  in  the 
East  would  call  a 
public  square. 

In  the  centre  of 
this  playground 
a  marble  monu- 
ment had  been 
erected  in  honor 
of  our  brave  sol- 
diers  who  had 
fallen  by  the  hand 
of  the  savage  red 
men.  Nearby  the 
old  government 
palace,  built  in 
1 58 1,  was  fast  los- 
ing its  antique 
appearance  be- 
cause    of     much 

remodelling  inside   and   adding   of   verandas  outside,  but  the 
walls  were  unchanged. 

Ground  space  was  no  object  to  these  people  when  they 
wanted  to  build.  A  model  Mexican  or  Spanish  house  was  of 
adobe  and  one  story  high,  with  one  or  more  placitas  or  inner 
courts.  All  the  rooms  opened  into  the  placita  and  nearly  all 
opened  on  the  street  as  well.  The  walls  were  from  two  to  four 
feet  thick,  and  the  roof  was  made  of  tiles  whose  spouts  pro- 
jected two  feet  or  more  from  the  building  to  carry  off  the 
water  when  it  rained.  Our  hotel  had  three  placitas,  the  larg- 
est  having   an   area  of   a    quarter   of    an    acre.       The    house 


View  of  Pueblo  from  the  south 


196         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

was  so  cool  that  one  would  not  dream  how  hot  the  sun  was 
outside. 

The  women,  except  the  Americans,  still  wore  shawls  about 
their  heads,  and  held  them  close  over  the  lower  part  of  the  face, 
and  the  men  wore  scrapes  held  in  much  the  same  way  as  the 
Indian  blanket.  When  these  people  went  to  market  they  carried 
their  meat  home  with  them  slung  over  their  shoulders  or  in  a 
basket  without  a  cover,  so  the  flies  and  bugs  had  many  a  feast 
as  they  followed  the  carriers. 

The  ceilings  were  never  plastered,  but  had  simply  plain,  un- 
finished beams.  There  were  no  seats  in  the  Catholic  churches, 
and  the  congregation  squatted  on  the  floor.  At  any  hour  of  the 
day  devout  Catholics  coiild  be  found  at  worship  or  confession. 

The  bishop's  garden  was  also  one  of  the  attractive  features 
of  the  town.  He  had  fruits  of  all  kinds  belonging  to  the  tem- 
perate zone,  and  his  artificial  ponds  had  thousands  of  fish. 
The  new  stone  cathedral  after  ten  years  of  steady  work  was 
slowly  assuming  shape,  and  the  Sisters'  Hospital  of  brick  was 
just  completed. 

Santa  Fe  was  the  queerest,  quaintest  place  that  one  could 
imagine,  with  its  narrow  cowpath  streets  and  its  people  so 
quaintly  dressed.  Its  plaza  was  full  of  spreading  cottonwood 
trees  that  made  a  densely  shaded  retreat  for  midday  idlers,  and 
at  all  times  of  day  and  night  the  seats  were  filled  and  the  ground 
covered  with  lazy  Spanish  and  Mexican  gossips  and  drones, 
who  listened  to  the  daily  concert  of  the  military  band.  The 
blocks  of  the  city  had  no  regular  dimensions,  and  varied  from 
two  or  three  rods  to  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length,  as  convenience 
dictated. 

The  Exchange  Hotel,  kept  by  Mrs.  S.  P.  Davis,  was  a  model 
of  neatness  and  comfort,  and  never  were  we  more  modestly 
comfortable  than  under  her  roof.  The  rooms  were  large,  airy, 
and  clean,  and  the  public  parlor  had  many  dainty  womanly 
touches  that  made  one  think  of  home.  The  upright  piano,  with 
its  abundance  of  classical  sheet  music,  afforded  opportunities 
for  a  most  delightful  evening.  The  quaint  building  occupied  a 
whole  block;  its  adobe  walls  were  only  one  story  high  and  the 
string  of  doors  opening  on  the  narrow  verandas  of  its  different 
sides  made  it  look  more  like  openings  in  a  beehive  with  its  in- 
mates going  in  and  out.     Every  guest  had  his  own  front  door. 


New  Mexico,  Santa  Fe,  and  the  Pueblos   197 

and  also  a  door  opening  into  the  inner  court,  and  every  room 
contained  two  single  beds. 

A  suburban  trip  of  interest  was  to  the  Taos  pueblo,  an  old 
Aztec  village  then  occupied  by  descendants  of  the  old  Aztec  race 
and  Pueblo  Indians.  Pueblo  means  people  in  the  Spanish  ac- 
ceptance of  the  term,  but  it  is  often  applied  to  the  buildings  in 
which  the  strange  race  dwells. 

Without  doubt  the  most  picturesque  inland  town  in  the  South- 


^m^ 

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*                         ^ 

j^BS^y- 

The  Sacred  Grove  of  Pueblo  de  las  Taos 


west  is  this  old  pueblo  of  Taos,  in  northern  New  Mexico,  thirty 
miles  east  of  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  narrow  gauge  road  from 
Santa  Fe  toward  Durango.  In  the  days  of  the  Santa^Fe  trail, 
Taos  was  one  of  the  important  points  between  Kansas  and  the 
coast,  but  with  the  advent  of  the  railroads  through  the  southern 
routes  in  the  early  '8o's  its  importance  waned. 

The  first  English  newspaper  established  west  of  the  Missouri 
River  was  published  at  Taos.  Here  Kit  Carson  lived  for  many 
years,  and  is  now  buried,  his  house  in  the  main  part  of  the  town 
being  occupied  of  late  years  as  a  newspaper  office. 

Taos  has  long  been  noted  as  a  rendezvous  for  artists  and 


198         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

writers  who  found  unmarred  the  long-sought  local  color  of  the 
Southwest.  Frederic  Remington  studied  at  Taos,  and  other 
artists  whose  works  are  well  known  are  Sauerwein  (recently  de- 
ceased), Couse,  Phillips,  Sharp,  Rollins,  Burbank,  and  GroU. 
The  first  four  mentioned  have  owned  or  now  own  homes  in 
Taos.  Here  the  old  communal  life  of  the  Pueblo  Indians,  the 
Spanish  customs  of  the  native  Mexicans,  and  the  pioneer  Ameri- 
can home  life  have  been  blended  in  one  community  for  half  a 
century. 

At  the  old  Aztec  pueblo  the  buildings  were  made  of  adobe 
brick,  which  is  composed  of  mud  and  straw  pressed  into  bricks 
and  dried  in  the  sun.  The  Taos  pueblo  is  two  stories  high  and 
built  around  a  plaza  with  the  openings  facing  inward.  The  outer 
wall  formed  the  high  exterior  of  the  square  of  the  plaza. 

These  queer  people  have  no  doors  or  windows  on  the  ground 
floor  except  the  one  entrance  to  the  inner  square  around  which 
the  extended  adobe  wall  is  built.  They  climb  up  to  the  second 
story  on  a  ladder  in  the  court,  and  pull  the  ladder  up  after 
them.  Many  of  the  apartments  were  very  clean  and  neat,  and 
again  they  were  the  embodiment  of  filth.  They  were  rather  an 
industrious  people,  and  while  the  men  worked  in  the  field  out- 
side, the  women  made  pottery.  They  made  all  kinds  of  hideous 
shapes,  and  their  clay  birds,  children,  men,  and  gods  were  most 
unmercifully  distorted  in  their  attempts  to  copy  nature. 

The  natives  were  always  peaceable,  as  were  their  predeces- 
sors. Their  ploughs  were  made  of  sticks  and  they  walked  in 
front  of  their  teams  instead  of  behind  when  ploughing.  Their 
ovens  on  top  of  the  second  story  were  made  of  the  same  material 
as  their  buildings.  It  seemed  impossible  for  them  to  get  cloth- 
ing enough  on  to  cover  their  nakedness;  their  black  hair  was  cut 
even  with  the  eyebrows  in  front  and  hung  down  long  in  the  back. 

The  lower  part  of  the  houses  were  generally  used  for  storing 
their  prb visions,  and  in  olden  times  for  storing  ammunition 
when  there  was  need  for  defence  from  enemies.  They  ground 
their  own  corn  on  a  flint  slab  with  long  granite  bars,  and  the 
movement  was  like  rubbing  clothes  on  a  washboard.  They  kept 
the  meal  brushed  together  with  an  old  hairbrush  which  had 
active  service  in  the  two  capacities. 

No  one  knows  how  long  these  buildings  have  stood.  They 
were  there  three  hundred  years  ago,  and  perhaps  three  hundred 


New  Mexico,  Santa  Fe,  and  the  Pueblos    199 


years  before  that.  Some  of  the  walls  were  crumbling  down,  but 
for  the  most  part  they  seemed  good  for  ages  to  come.  The  hours 
spent  there  were  full  of  interest,  and  we  were  well  rewarded  for 
our  trouble. 

On  the  way  home  we  spread  our  lunch  under  the  roots  of 
a  mammoth  cottonwood  tree,  on  the  bank  of  a  stream  where 
the  waters  had  washed  away  the  soil,  and  the  gnarled  roots  were 
intertwined  and  stood  out  in  bold  relief,  making  a  canopy  of 
shade  as  if  in  an- 
ticipation of  such 
a  party  as  ours. 

The  burros  or 
Mexican  donkeys 
were  about  the 
size  of  an  Ameri- 
can  colt  six 
months  old.  The 
Indians  and  Mex- 
icans drive  them 
to  town  loaded 
with  wood  or  tim- 
ber, which  is  tied 
to  the  little  pa- 
tient animals  with 
ropes.  It  is  said 
that  when  grass 
gives  out  they  live  on  pebbles  and  tin  cans. 

The  Mexican  jewelry  was  a  great  novelty  and  it  was  from 
their  patterns  that  Americans  have  adopted  and  learned  the 
filagree  work.  There  was  one  bracelet  on  exhibition  that  was 
sixty  years  old  in  1880.  It  required  twelve  months  to  make  it. 
It  was  of  massive  gold,  made  with  vines,  berries,  and  leaves,  with 
over  four  thousand  precious  stones,  the  largest  one  not  much 
larger  than  a  pin  head.  It  was  valued  at  $5000,  although  it  was 
not  for  sale  at  any  price. 

Twenty  miles  from  Santa  F^  is  the  only  turquoise  mine  of 
which  our  noble  country  boasts.  It  was  first  worked  by  the 
Aztecs,  and  many  stone  implements  with  which  they  used  to 
work  out  the  matrix  have  been  found  in  the  rifts.  The  mine  had 
not  been  worked  for  many  years  until  leased  by  Eastern  capital- 


San  Juan  plow  and  car 


200         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

ists,  and  as  a  piece  of  perfect  turquoise  the  size  of  a  nickel  is 
worth  over  a  thousand  dollars  it  is  quite  a  comfortable  mine  to 
own. 

A  good  story  of  the  troubles  of  an  American  to  grapple 
with  the  Spanish  language  was  published  at  the  time  we  were  in 
Santa  Fe  in  the  Albuquerque  (N.  M.),  Democrat ,  and  ran  as 
follows : 


"A  few  days  since  a  stranger  from  the  unconverted  wilds 

of  the  East,  where 
tenderfeet  attain 
their  highest  state 
of  sensitiveness, 
came  out  to  Al- 
buquerque, New 
Mexico,  to  visit  a 
friend.  While 
walking  along 
Railroad  Avenue, 
he  said  to  his 
friend:  '  There 
goes  a  man  I  met 
up  at  La  Junta' 
giving  the  J  its 
natural  pronun- 
ci  a  t  i  o  n.  '  You 
mean  La  Hunta' 
the  friend  replied 
*That  is  a  Span- 
ish name,  and  in 
'Is  that  so?     Well 


San  Juan  Dago  and  his  burro 


that  language  the  J  takes  the  sound  of  H.' 
I  must  try  to  catch  on  to  that.' 

"Then  after  strolling  along  a  short  distance  farther  he  asked : 
*  Where  are  those  James  Springs  of  which  I  see  so  much  in  the 
papers?*  'You  should  call  them  Haymes  Springs;  they  are 
over  in  the  mountains  about  sixty  miles.' 

" '  Darn  the  language — it  breaks  me  all  up.  That  *s  a  pretty 
nice  house  over  there — that  Armijo  House,  is  n't  it?'  and  again 
he  gave  the  j  its  proper  pronunciation.  '  You  mean  the  Armiho 
House;  yes,  it 's  a  good  one  too.' 


New  Mexico,  Santa  F6,  and  the  Pueblos    201 

*' '  Damsicha  way  of  abusing  the  English  alphabet.  I  reckon, 
then,  that  must  be  Haffa  Bros.'s  store  down  the  street  there?' 
'  No,  that  is  not  a  Spanish  name,  I  think  it  is  French.  However, 
it  is  pronounced  as  spelled.'  'Well,  how  in  Santa  F^  is  a  fellow 
goin'  to  tell  what  's  Spanish  and  what  is  n't?  Why  could  n't 
they  spell  their  language  accordin'  to  the  original  plans?'  'Oh, 
you  '11  soon  catch  on.  You  will  find  it  safest  to  give  the  Spanish 
pronunciation  to  nearly  everything  here.' 


I       i 


I 


Pottery  of  the  San  Juan  Indians 

"An  hour  later  they  sat  down  at  the  table  of  the  San  Felipe 
Hotel,  and,  after  scanning  the  bill  of  fare,  the  stranger  said  to 
the  waiter:  'You  may  bring  me  a  nice,  huicy  piece  of  roast 
beef,  some  pig's  howl  with  caper  sauce,  some  fricasseed  hack- 
rabbit,  some  pork  with  apple  helly,  some  boiled  potatoes  with 
the  hackets  on — ^unskun,  you  know — some  tarts  with  currant 
ja — I  mean  currant  ham,  and,  ah  some ' 

* '  At  this  point  the  waiter  swooned  and  the  guests  in  the  room 
let  out  a  roar  of  laughter  that  gave  the  chandeliers  the  chills  and 
feveri     This  made  the  stranger  mad,  but  his  friends  got  hold  of 


202         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

him  and  took  him  from  the  room,  and  as  he  went  through  the 
door  he  remarked:  'I kin  take  a  hoke,  but,  it  makes  me  mad 
to  be  played  for  a  greeny.'" 

We  call  our  native  country  Fatherland  and  our  language 
Mother  Tongue,  but  a  foreigner  will  find  just  such  absurdities 
in  the  English  language.  An  acquaintance  who  was  struggling 
with  its  obstacles  said  to  us:  "When  I  discovered  that  if  I  was 
quick  I  was  fast,  if  I  stood  firm  I  was  fast,,  if  I  spent  too  freely  I 
was  fast,  and  that  not  to  eat  was  to  fast,  I  was  discouraged;  but 
when  I  came  across  the  sentence,  '  The  first  one  won  one  guinea 
prize,'  I  was  tempted  to  give  up  English  and  learn  some  other 
language."     And  who  could  blame  him  ? 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
MIDDLE  PARK.     A  THRILLING  SIX-HORSE  RUNAWAY 

FTER  a  few  days'  rest  in  the 
quiet  shades  of  Estes 
Park,  following  the  trip 
through  New  Mexico, 
Pard  thought  it  was 
necessary  for  him  to  go 
-  ,.^  over  the  mountain 

■'^^Wl\WF^'^'^^  .  r^nge  to  Middle  Park 

,  i.  j\^\V's>\'Vi'"^,yij:L^  -...-C;  ■';^•  on   horseback   for  the 

^^l;^^:;--:^^^^^^>?.Eil'^'^^      ^  purpose  of  noting  the 

timber  and  other  re- 
sources, and  to  study  the  water-courses.  I  whispered  to  him, 
to  hunt  and  fish  on  the  way,  and  he  did  not  deny  the  soft 
impeachment,  but  the  smile  that  flitted  over  his  face  would  make 
one  think  he  already  had  a  trout  on  his  line. 

Mrs.  W.  B.  Waters,  one  of  my  sisters  from  Chicago,  had  been 
persuaded  to  enjoy  some  of  the  Colorado  scenery  with  us  for  a 
month  or  two,  and  while  Pard  crossed  the  range  from  Estes  Park 
under  the  trusty  guidance  of  Hank  Farrar,  sister  and  I  preferred 
the  roundabout  route  by  rail  and  stage.  There  were  no  good 
horses  for  the  trip  over  the  range  for  us,  and  as  we  would  have  to 
use  the  cross-saddle,  for  which  we  were  not  prepared,  we  could 
only  watch  them  ride  away  without  us.  A  rendezvous  had  been 
planned  in  Middle  Park,  and  the  first  stage  out  carried  us  down 
to  Longmont,  whence  we  went  by  rail  to  Denver  and  Georgetown, 
then  by  stage  again  for  seventy  miles  to  the  point  of  convergence. 

The  morning  we  left  Georgetown  was  bright  and  clear,  and 
the  six-horse  coach  came  up  to  the  Barton  House  for  its  eleven 
waiting  passengers  with  a  clanking  of  harness  and  rattling  of 
wheels  that  betokened  a  dashing  ride.  Five  grown  people  and 
four  children  made  the  unpromising  load  for  the  inside,  and  a 
sick  man  with  a  ten-year-old  boy  with  the  driver. 

203 


204         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  driver  was  cracking  his  whip  and  spurring  the  horses 
to  the  usual  parade  within  the  town  Hmits,  when  a  man  suddenly 
ran  from  a  cabin  where  he  had  been  sitting  in  his  shirt  sleeves  in 
the  doorway  reading  a  newspaper.  He  threw  up  his  hands  in 
an  excited  manner  as  he  ran  toward  us,  and  stopped  the  stage, 
begging  the  driver  to  wait  just  five  minutes  for  him  as  he  must 
take  that  coach.  The  "major-domo"  on  the  box  grumbled  a 
reluctant  consent  and  told  the  man  to  hustle  himself  for  that 
"stage  could  n't  wait  long  for  nobody,  specially  some  feller  that 
*ud  read  'stead  o'  puttin'  on  his  clothes";  and  he  continued  to 
mumble  on  in  a  disgruntled  way  until  the  man  was  aboard  and 
the  wheels  turned  again. 

We  could  see  him  put  on  his  vest,  tuck  a  few  things  in  a 
small  bag,  grab  his  coat,  and  start  out,  slamming  the  door  be- 
hind him,  without  giving  it  further  attention,  and  donning  his 
coat  as  he  ran.  We  could  not  understand  why  he  was  not  ready 
if  it  was  so  important  for  him  to  take  that  morning's  stage.  He 
climbed  into  the  coach  all  out  of  breath,  puffing  like  an  engine, 
but  with  a  look  of  satisfaction  that  quite  reconciled  the  other 
passengers  to  the  delay.  He  bore  the  euphonious  name  of 
George  Washington  Giggy,  as  we  afterward  learned,  and  his 
home  was  in  Boulder,  Colorado.  He  had  a  large  stock-ranch 
near  Middle  Park  and  had  promised  to  ride  a  horse  up  to  the 
ranch  for  some  man  in  Georgetown,  a  valuable  animal  that  could 
not  be  trusted  to  an  unknown  personage. 

He  was  not  inclined  to  be  talkative  at  first,  but  when  he 
gained  his  composure  he  seemed  to  feel  that  some  explanation 
was  due,  and  after  a  slight  smile  had  played  over  his  countenance 
a  few  minutes  he  said  he  had  not  the  slightest  intention  of  taking 
that  stage  until  he  heard  it  coming  up  the  street ;  then  a  feeling 
came  over  him  so  strong  that  he  must  take  it  that  it  was  like  a 
power  not  his  own  that  impelled  him  to  demand  the  stage  to 
wait  for  him.  Now  that  he  was  on  his  way  he  wondered  what  he 
did  it  for  and  what  the  owner  of  the  horse  would  think  of  him. 

Among  the  other  passengers  was  a  woman  with  four  little 
girls  and  a  nursemaid,  and  we  were  no  sooner  whirling  along  the 
curves  of  the  mountains  in  the  swinging  coach  than  three  of  the 
four  children  began  to  be  seasick,  and  they  continued  to  be  ill  all 
the  day  long.  We  were  unfortunate  enough  to  be  on  the  inside, 
having  surrendered  the  outside  seat  to  the  man  who  was  ill. 


Quick  as  a  thought  he  was  pulling  his  great  stalwart  figure  from  out 
the  coach  " 


205 


2o6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

and  then  to  have  those  three  children  seasick  made  our  condition 
rather  deplorable. 

The  first  foiirteen  miles  was  a  steady  ascent  along  as  grand 
a  mountain  road  as  one  could  imagine.  From  below,  the  road, 
high  on  the  mountainside,  looked  like  a  mere  scratch  on  the 
rocks. 

There  was  a  post-office  at  the  entrance  to  Middle  Park  kept 
by  a  Mr.  Ostrander,  and  with  the  long  shadows  of  a  dying  sun 
creeping  down  the  mountainside,  we  drew  up  in  front  of  this  im- 
portant distributing  point.  The  nursegirl  got  out  with  the 
children,  that  they  might  get  a  few  minutes  of  exercise  while  the 
mail  was  being  changed. 

The  driver  well  knew  that  he  had  a  pair  of  runaway  bronchos 
in  the  lead  of  his  six-in-hand,  but  he  carelessly  wound  the  lines 
around  the  brake  without  leaving  any  one  to  watch  the  restless 
animals,  and  went  to  the  back  boot  to  readjust  the  mail  and  to 
add  a  new  sack.  The  untamed  roadsters  soon  felt  the  lack  of  a 
restraining  hand  and  made  a  wild  dash  for  liberty.  The  driver 
rushed  for  the  lines  and  perhaps  could  have  succeeded  in  getting 
hold  of  them  had  he  not  tripped  and  fallen,  and  thus  left  us  at 
the  mercy  of  six  wild  horses. 

The  invalid  on  the  box  was  too  ill  to  even  get  the  lines  in 
his  hand  and  the  young  boy  who  was  travelling  with  him  was  so 
frightened  that  in  an  attempt  to  jump  off  he  lost  his  balance  and 
at  the  outset  we  saw  the  poor  lad  falling  doubled  up  between  the 
wheels,  and  we  knew  the  stage  ran  over  him. 

There  was  a  stretch  of  more  than  a  mile  of  corduroy  road 
ahead  of  us  with  its  rough  pole  ends  sticking  out  to  the  ditch  on 
either  side  and  if  we  upset  we  must  be  dragged  along  on  those 
wicked  logs  to  our  doom.  Mr.  Giggy  clasped  his  hands  as  if 
in  an  attitude  of  prayer,  and  his  face  betokened  a  look  of  the 
most  abject  terror;  he  was  facing  me  and  I  will  never  forget  my 
horror  in  the  thought  that  he  had  gone  mad.  Suddenly  his 
face  lighted,  he  looked  out  and  saw  the  lines  still  wound  around 
the  brake  and  said,  "Oh,  if  I  can  only  get  hold  of  those  lines!" 
and  as  quick  as  a  thought  he  was  pulling  his  great  stalwart  figure 
from  out  the  coach  and  with  superhuman  strength  he  grasped 
anything  that  would  hold  him  until  he  had  climbed  to  the  front 
boot,  where  he  did  get  possession  of  the  lines.  He  gave  a  glad 
shout  to  us  that  he  had  made  it,  and  though  he  knew  he  could 


Middle  Park.     A  Thrilling  Runaway      207 

not  stop  the  mad  race  of  the  horses  who  had  the  bits  in  their  teeth, 
he  could  guide  them  until  their  strength  was  spent  and  perhaps 
keep  the  stage  from  going  over.  He  pulled  on  them  with  all  his 
might  as  he  pressed  the  brake  to  check  their  speed.  We  could 
hear  the  bark  of  his  breath  in  his  strenuous  work,  and  knew  that 


"  Crossing  its  pure,  swift  waters  half  a  dozen  times  " 

every  bit  of  his  strength  was  being  exerted  to  prevent  a  direful 
catastrophe. 

Sister  and  I  had  all  we  could  do  to  keep  the  frantic  mother 
from  leaping  from  the  coach,  as  she  called  loudly  for  her  children 
and  she  became  so  insane  with  fear  that  we  had  to  hold  her  by 
main  force  as  we  were  buffeted  about  like  feathers  in  a  storm. 

Mr.  Giggy  did  guide  the  horses  safely  over  the  entire  length 
of  that  corduroy  road,  but  when  the  smooth  roadbed  was  reached 
they  took  a  fresh  plunge;  fortunately  they  were  too  nearly 
winded  to  keep  it  up,  and  turning  them  into  a  wire  fence  he 
brought  them  to  a  sudden  halt.  When  he  had  rested  himself  a 
moment  he  turned  the  horses  around  and  drove  them  back  to 
the  post-office.     The  driver  was  following  on  the  way,  having 


2o8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

started  out  on  foot  after  the  stage,  and  when  Mr.  Giggy  again 
took  his  seat  inside,  still  trembling  from  his  exertion,  we  all  said 
it  was  no  longer  a  mystery  what  power  had  impelled  him  to  come 
on  that  stage,  for  it  was  a  special  dispensation  of  Providence  that 
he  should  be  there  to  save  our  lives. 

The  poor  boy  was  not  killed  but  he  was  badly  hurt  and  we 
had  to  leave  him  there  with  the  man  who  was  himself  too  ill  and 
weak  with  fright  to  continue  his  journey  even  had  the  boy  not 
been  hurt.  The  rest  of  us  continued  on  our  way  with  nothing 
worse  than  the  loss  of  some  of  the  color  glands  of  our  hair  and 
the  equilibrium  of  our  nerves,  but  we  were  glad  when  the  day 
ended,  landing  us,  about  eight  o'clock,  at  what  was  called  the 
Middle  Park  Hotel  at  Hot  Sulphur  Springs. 

A  plunge  in  the  hot  springs  baths  refreshed  our  physical 
powers  and  washed  away  some  remembrance  of  trouble.  There 
were  more  than  twenty  hot  springs  that  boiled  up  and  united 
their  waters  in  one  common  stream  that  rolled  over  a  ledge  of 
rock  into  a  natural  basin  made  by  the  falling  water  wearing 
out  a  great  bowl  in  the  huge  rock,  three  or  more  feet  in  depth, 
twenty  feet  wide,  and  thirty  feet  in  length.  Over  this  had  been 
built  a  stone  house  enclosing  the  swimming  bath.  The  tempera- 
ture was  120  degrees  Fahrenheit,  and  one  needed  to  play  around 
the  edge  a  while  before  making  a  final  plunge.  This  had  been 
a  favorite  resort  of  the  Ute  Indians  for  centuries  and  they  came 
even  yet  to  an  annual  pow-wow.  The  springs  were  discovered 
by  a  party  of  prospectors  sent  out  by  Wm.  N.  Byers,  of  Denver, 
on  Christmas,  1859.  While  little  of  the  precious  metal  was 
found,  the  discovery  of  these  springs  would  prove  more  valuable 
than  a  gold  mine  if  they  could  be  made  more  accessible. 

Settlers  were  coming  in  steadily  and  there  were  some  fifty 
buildings  at  the  springs.  The  Grand  River  and  its  tributaries 
abounded  in  fine  trout,  and  just  over  the  foothills  close  by  there 
were  plenty  of  elk  and  other  wild  game. 

Our  merry  huntsmen  came  in  over  the  range  from  Estes  Park 
next  morning,  bearing  some  saddles  of  venison  and  some  sensa- 
tional experiences,  but  not  so  serious  as  ours  had  been.  Pard 
declared  he  would  never  let  me  get  away  from  him  again  for  fear 
I  would  not  be  so  bravely  rescued  as  I  had  been  on  this  occasion. 
And  truly  enough  he  has  saved  my  Hfe  on  several  occasions 
since  then. 


Middle  Park.     A  Thrilling  Runaway      209 

We  soon  began  to  explore  the  park  and  enjoy  its  pleasures. 
Mounted  on  good  horses  we  followed  Grand  River  up  the  valley 
for  twenty-four  miles  crossing  its  pure,  swift  waters  half  a  dozen 
times,  together  with  several  of  its  tributaries.  Ever  and  anon  the 
mighty  current  seemed  determined  to  punish  its  intruders  by 
taking  us  all  bodily  down  its  treacherous  channel.  But  at  the 
end  of  the  twenty-four  miles  Grand  Lake  appeared  before  us  as  a 


Grand  Lake,  Middle  Park,  Colo. 

beautiful  sheet  of  water  five  hundred  feet  higher  than  the  springs, 
and  almost  encircling  its  dark  mirror-like  depths  were  the  wooded 
peaks  rising  two  and  three  thousand  feet,  and  sending  continuous 
contributions  to  this  unfathomable  body  of  waters.  The  main 
tributary  was  a  large  stream  that  tore  its  way  down  a  narrow 
gorge  for  many  miles,  often  making  leaps  of  over  a  hundred 
feet,  dashing  its  volume  of  water  into  the  whitest  spray,  and 
quickly  regathering  its  force  for  another  and  grander  leap; 
thus  on  and  on,  one  grand  leap  after  another  until,  with  a  final 
roar  of  satisfaction,  it  poured  its  uneasy  mass  into  the  depths  that 


2IO         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

know  no  end,  for  a  line  has  not  yet  been  found  long  enough  to 
reach  a  resting  place  at  the  bottom  of  Grand  Lake. 

We  found  an  old  leaky  boat  moored  on  the  beach  and  rowed 
ourselves  across  the  lake;  there  we  rested  on  a  huge  boulder  in 
the  spray  of  the  last  waterfall  and  climbed  far  above  and  explored 
to  our  satisfaction  the  mysterious  windings  of  the  stream.  So 
long  as  our  eyes  were  lifted  up  our  minds  were  full  of  the  beauti- 
ful and  sublime,  but  when  our  gaze  was  allowed  to  fall  upon  our 
own  feet,  what  a  contrast!  We  acted  like  a  bevy  of  peacocks 
and  tried  to  hide  the  unsightly  appendages,  for  dangling  over  the 
side  of  that  boulder  on  which  we  were  resting  were  three  pairs 
of  boots  that  had  waded  above  their  tops  in  mud  and  mire, 
through  brooks  and  through  briars,  over  dead  and  fallen  timber. 
Unconsciously,  and  yet  with  wondrous  lazy  motion,  they  turned 
themselves  in  the  sun  and  courted  its  warm  rays,  but  to  no  pur- 
pose, for  the  home  stretch  had  to  be  made  over  the  same  muddy 
road.  Gradually  each  pair  was  withdrawn  and  put  in  motion 
and  when  the  boat's  mooring  was  reached  every  foot  was  so  laden 
with  mud  that  it  was  dropped  into  the  boat  like  a  sack  of  ore. 

The  lake  was  some  two  miles  and  a  half  long  by  one  and  a 
half  wide.  The  wind  had  risen  and  the  white  caps  and  splash 
of  the  oars  made  a  rippling  accompaniment  to  our  jests  that  hid 
any  uneasiness  or  discomfort  that  white  caps  and  leaky  boats 
are  bound  to  produce. 

We  had  invitations  to  a  dance  for  that  evening,  and  although 
we  would  have  been  content  to  hide  in  our  tent  unseen  there 
was  no  escape  from  donning  our  best  clothes  and  presenting  our- 
selves at  the  party.  Mrs.  Shaeffer  prepared  us  a  wondrously 
wholesome  supper,  and  when  we  were  ready  to  join  the  gay 
dancers  we  were  so  rested  and  refreshed  that  we  were  quickly 
converted  to  the  gayety  of  the  hour. 

The  cabin  wherein  the  party  was  held  had  but  one  room,  which 
served  for  all  purposes  of  family  life.  How  quaint  it  all  was! 
One  could  imagine  his  spirit  had  flown  back  to  the  ancestral 
days  of  the  Pilgrim  landing.  The  low  wide  door,  with  heavy 
wooden  hinges  and  its  old-fashioned  latch,  opened  into  a  room 
about  thirty  feet  square.  Opposite  the  door  a  huge  fire  was  glow- 
ing and  crackling  cheerily  against  a  bull  pine  back-log,  and  off  in 
a  corner  was  the  old  homemade  dish  cupboard,  holding  also  the 
stores  of  provisions.     Opposite  that  useful  case  a  rude  table  was 


Middle  Park.     A  Thrilling  Runaway      211 

pushed  up  against  the  wall  to  make  more  room  for  the  expected 
guests.  The  one  low  window  had  but  a  single  sash,  and  for 
seats  there  were  rude  benches,  boxes,  two  or  three  old  chairs,  and 
some  of  the  guests  were  even  sitting  on  the  floor. 

The  mantel  was  graced  by  shining  tea  and  coffee  pots, 
broken  pitchers  of  wild  flowers,  ancient  candlesticks  with  tallow 
dips,  a  dilapidated  timepiece,  and  a  few  extra  table  dishes.  At 
least  twenty  good,  honest  country  people  were  sitting  around  the 
room,  and  as  many  attitudes  almost  instantly  caught  the  eye. 
From  grandfather  down  to  the  baby  in  arms  they  were  listening 
to  the  strains  of  "Dan  Tucker,"  "The  Fisherman's  Hornpipe," 
and  other  familiar  airs;  and  now  and  then  the  pure  soprano  of  a 
young  girl,  the  rich  bass  of  the  lad  chimed  together  with  the 
cracked  yet  sweet  voices  of  the  aged,  and  even  the  cooing  babe 
joined  in  the  old  home  songs,  familiar  to  every  one,  and  every- 
thing rang  with  the  contagious  mirth. 

Old  Father  Shaeffer,  who  was  nearing  his  ninetieth  year, 
came  in  for  his  share  of  the  pleasure,  his  white  hair  and  beard 
shone  like  a  silver  wreath  around  his  happy  old  face,  and  he  was 
a  welcome  guest.  Twenty  years  had  passed  since  he  moved  into 
the  Park,  and  he  said  in  his  tremulous  way:  "When  I  die — if 
I  ever  do  die — I  want  to  die  right  here.  Why,  I  tell  you,  when 
God  made  the  world  he  had  all  his  best  stuff  yet  on  hand  and  he 
lumped  it  off  in  a  heap  right  here  in  Middle  Park."  Money 
would  not  hire  him  to  spend  one  week  outside  the  Park,  and  dur- 
ing the  Indian  troubles  the  year  before  his  sons  had  to  take  him 
by  main  force  to  a  place  of  safety.  He  was  a  favorite  with  both 
old  and  young,  and  few  people  at  his  age  command  such  love 
from  every  one. 

Later  a  bright  fire  blazed  in  front  of  our  tent,  in  itself  an  in- 
vitation to  the  needed  rest  we  were  anxious  to  get,  and  lying  half 
awake  and  half  asleep,  with  the  light  flickering  through  the  open 
tent  fly,  and  the  great  full  moon  showing  its  silvery  pathway 
across  the  wonderful  lake,  we  thought  how  happy  these  people 
were  in  their  simple  lives,  living  so  close  to  nature,  and  to 
nature's  God.  The  Bohemian  element  of  my  own  nature  made 
me  wonder  if,  after  all,  the  thirst  and  greed  for  knowledge  and 
civilization  and  more  sordid  things  are  worth  the  price  we  pay. 

In  the  morning  a  large,  beautiful  horse,  the  pride  of  the  camp, 
was  placed  at  my  disposal  while  we  remained.     What  a  joy  it 


212         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

was  to  be  in  boots  and  spurs  on  such  a  magnificent  animal.  He 
arched  his  neck  and  pranced  about  as  if  he  reaHzed  the  com- 
pUments  that  were  showered  upon  him.  His  training  was 
perfect,  and  he  was  guided  by  gently  dropping  the  rein  on  his 
neck  on  the  opposite  side  from  which  he  was  to  go.    Always  used 


"The  branches  rubbed  me  out  of  my  saddle" 

to  guiding  an  animal  by  the  bit  I  did  not  trust  myself  so  much  as 
I  did  the  horse,  but  Pard  and  I  galloped  off  scarcely  reaHzing  that 
I  was  not  in  a  cozy  rocking-chair. 

The  test  came,  however,  when,  suddenly  changing  our  course 
where  a  tree  stood  in  the  forks  of  the  road,  I  gave  my  pretty  bay 
a  tap  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  neck,  so  that  he  went  dutifully  up 
to  it,  instead  of  going  away  from  the  tree;  the  branches  rubbed  me 
out  of  my  saddle,  throwing  me  backwards  to  the  ground.     When 


Middle  Park.     A  Thrilling  Runaway       213 

I  returned  to  consciousness  I  called  for  my  horse,  which  was 
quietly  grazing  near  by.  He  was  not  at  all  excited  and  came  at 
my  call,  sniffing  his  regrets  as  best  he  could,  but  after  all  he  seemed 
to  have  a  look  of  disgust  in  his  eye  such  as  I  have  seen  hunting 
dogs  have  when  a  shot  failed  to  bring  down  the  game. 

As  soon  as  possible  I  was  reseated  in  the  saddle,  but  being 
slightly  hurt  we  curtailed  the  ride.  I  was  too  proud  to  own 
the  cause  of  our  speedy  return,  and  put  it  entirely  upon  the 
grounds  of  generosity  toward  some  one  else  who  might  want  to 
ride.  After  being  secretly  bathed  and  sponged  with  spirits  and 
hot  water,  and  taking  a  dose  of  life-giving  bitters,  I  was  permitted 
to  remain  quiet  the  rest  of  the  day. 

Three  sides  of  Middle  Park  are  walled  in  by  the  snowy  range, 
the  fourth  side  allowing  the  waters  to  pass  off  toward  the  western 
slope.  The  surface  is  broken  with  hills  and  peaks  that  render  it 
picturesque  in  the  extreme,  with  its  many  streams  winding  among 
the  depressions.  The  hills  are  so  high  that  only  a  small  portion 
of  the  Park  is  visible  from  any  given  point  unless  from  such  an 
eminence  as  Mt.  Bross,  which  stands  close  by  the  springs. 

One  is  amply  repaid  by  a  trip  to  the  summit  of  that  mountain, 
for  the  Park  lies  like  a  greensward  at  its  feet,  while  beyond  the 
snow  gives  rainbow  reflections  that  mingle  with  the  green  trees 
and  grass,  and  the  silver  waters  shine  as  far  away  as  the  eye  can 
see. 

Semi-precious  stones  are  found  all  over  the  Park  in  immense 
deposits.  There  are  hundreds  of  acres  of  agates,  jasper,  and  opal, 
and  a  whole  mountain  of  chalcedony  and  endless  quantities  of 
petrified  wood.  Some  rich  deposits  of  silver  ore  had  also  been 
found  on  the  range  toward  North  Park. 

It  was  a  joy  to  us  that  our  exploits  were  not  all  for  the  home- 
seeker,  the  investor,  or  the  scrambler  for  wealth,  but  that  we 
could  also  reach  such  places  where  future  villages  would  find 
all  the  charms  of  nature,  and  be  imbued  and  awed  by  the  marvel- 
lous works  of  One  supreme  over  all.  We  felt  like  calling  from  the 
mountain  tops  to  the  whole  world  to  come  and  see  the  stupen- 
dous scenery  of  the  great  and  glorious  Rockies. 

It  was  a  matter  of  regret  that  we  could  not  linger  at  places 
which  pleased  us  so  much,  yet  we  never  moved  on  but  that  we 
found  new  wonders  to  hold  us  enchanted  again. 

As  Pard's  work  was  done  the  time  came  to  say  good-bye  to 


214         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Middle  Park,  with  all  its  towering  peaks,  its  bottomless  waters 
and  its  Bohemian  life,  but  the  glorious  life-giving  atmosphere  was 
a  blessing  common  to  all  the  Rockies,  and  breathing  in  its  life- 
giving  ozone  we  wended  our  way  back  to  the  steel  rails  again  to 
seek  other  unwritten  lands. 


CHAPTER   XIX 
A  STAGE  UPSET  ON   THE  GUNNISON   ROAD 

'N  August,  1880,  we 
visited  the  Gunnison 
country  which  was 
then  opening  up  to  the 
world  a  new  mining 
field  of  great  promise. 
The  direct  route  was 
by  the  South  Park 
Railroad  to  South 
Arkansas  station  near 
Poncha  Springs,  where  the  Barlow  and  Sanderson  stage  line  met 
the  train  Monday  morning  and  carried  passengers  sixty-five 
miles  in  time  for  supper  at  Gunnison  City,  if  good  luck  and  fair 
roads  favored  them. 

To  our  utter  dismay  there  were  to  be  seventeen  passengers, 
eleven  of  whom  occupied  the  three  seats  inside  the  coach,  and 
the  remaining  six  climbed  on  the  roof;  then  there  was  the 
usual  amount  of  mail,  baggage,  and  express.  We  averaged 
500  pounds  on  a  seat  inside,  and  there  was  no  computing 
the  weight  ouside.  I  had  the  heartless  assurance  offered  me  if 
the  roof  gave  in  that  a  man  weighing  250  pounds  was  sitting  just 
over  my  head.  As  we  rolled  out  of  Poncha  our  day  of  trouble 
began.  The  motion  of  the  coach  soon  made  two  of  the  passen- 
gers very  ill.  There  was  no  help  for  them,  but  they  made  plenty 
of  discomfort  for  the  rest  of  us.  I  was  riding  backward  on  the 
front  seat  and  a  man  and  woman  on  the  respective  ends  of  the 
seat  facing  me  had  their  heads  out  of  the  window  incessantly 
to  dispose  of  the  last  week's  ration,  and  there  was  but  little  cessa- 
tion the  whole  day  long. 

The  steep  places  between  Poncha  and  Gunnison  were  all  on 
the  left  side,  and  strange  as  it  seemed  the  road  slanted  that  way 
down  the  mountainside,  and  to  make  matters  still  worse  our 
coach  thoroughbrace  was  sprung  in  favor  of  the  ravines. 

215 


2i6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

We  had  not  gone  many  miles  when  one  of  the  hind  wheels 
struck  a  boulder  and  came  so  near  upsetting  us  that  two  men 
lost  their  balance  on  the  top  and  slid  down  into  the  green  depths  of 
the  canyon.  One  escaped  unhurt  and  turned  to  help  the  other 
who  had  sprained  or  broken  his  ankle.  The  poor  fellow  had  to  be 
carried  up  and  the  passengers  of  the  coach  changed  about  so  as 
to  put  the  injured  man  inside.  The  men  above  had  no  sooner 
climbed  to  their  places  again  than  every  one  was  handing  down 
his  bottle  of  "cure  all"  and  a  row  of  bottles  hung  in  festoons 
around  the  upper  part  of  the  doors  and  windows  of  the  stage. 
But  it  was  once  when  brandy  lost  its  magic  power,  and  when  we 
met  the  down  stage  our  suffering  passenger  was  sent  back  to 
Poncha. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  driver  ran  too  close  to  the  mountain- 
side, when  there  was  a  steep  pitch  and  again  we  were  saved  from 
destruction  by  one  of  the  heaviest  men  grabbing  a  well-rooted 
sapling  and  holding  it  fast  until  the  wheels  dropped  to  a  level 
again. 

A  little  farther  on  we  locked  wheels  with  a  freight  wagon 
and  ttirned  the  wagon  over,  spilling  its  contents  to  an  accom- 
paniment of  profuse  bad  language  of  the  freighter,  and  we  de- 
layed long  enough  for  our  passengers  to  help  the  man  gather  his 
load  again.  This  is  not  just  the  place,  although  it  may  be  the 
time,  to  repeat  what  the  freighter's  remarks  were  about  the  acci- 
dent, but  we  hastened  away  without  writing  them  down. 

The  day  wore  on  in  a  series  of  mishaps  and  delays  and  it 
was  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  before  we  reached  the  dinner 
station.  One  of  the  passengers  had  a  good  supply  of  raisins, 
which  he  handed  out  most  liberally.  We  had  never  before 
realized  how  good  raisins  are.  The  six  o'clock  breakfast  had  be- 
come a  dream  and  dinner  seemed  a  myth  not  to  be  materialized. 
The  raisin  man,  whose  name  I  am  sorry  to  forget,  said  that  he 
never  travelled  in  the  mountains  without  raisins  as  he  found  they 
were  food  and  drink  when  everything  else  was  gone.  It  was  a  bit 
of  knowledge  that  we  never  forgot,  and  found  useful  on  many 
a  hard  trip  when  we  could  not  eat  the  food  that  was  placed 
before  us,  for  we  never  travelled  by  stage  after  that  that  we  did 
not  carry  a  goodly  supply  of  that  succulent  fruit. 

At  four  o'clock,  however,  a  good  dinner  was  on  the  table, 
after  our  belated  coach  rolled  up  to  the  stage  station  door,  and 


A  Stage  Upset  on  the  Gunnison  Road     217 

a  lot  of  hungry  people  were  doing  it  justice,  when  a  hungry 
yellowjacket  crawled  up  my  wrist  and  presented  his  sword  to  me 
in  such  wondrously  wicked  way  that  it  drained  a  liberal  supply  of 
blue  ancestral  blood. 

With  fear  and  trembling  at  what  might  yet  befall  us  before 
the  day  was  over  we  clambered  again  to  our  seats  in  the  stage. 
The  driver  was  in  a  hurry  to  get  his  load  settled  and  be  off,  and  he 
slammed  the  heavy  stage  door  on  a  man's  hand.  The  passenger 
had  hold  of  the  casing  and  was  looking  the  opposite  way  when 
the  accident  happened,  and  he  gave  a  yell  of  agony  as  he  pulled 
in  the  bleeding,  mangled  mass  that  was  sickening  to  see.  We 
delayed  at  least  another  half  hour  that  the  bruised  member 
might  be  comfortably  cared  for. 

The  driver  lost  his  feeling  of  haste  and  was  exceedingly  tender 
in  his  care  of  the  wounded  hand.  He  explained  his  anxiety  and 
hurry  by  saying  there  were  two  dangerous  spots  ahead  of  us  and 
he  wanted  to  get  past  them  before  dark,  and  if  he  told  us  to  lean 
a  certain  way  as  we  drove  along  the  bad  places  we  must  do  it 
quickly,  and  try  to  keep  the  stage  from  upsetting.  One  old 
pioneer  remarked,  "I  am  no  tenderfoot,  but  an  old  mountaineer, 
used  to  danger  and  exposure,  but  this  trip  beats  all,  and  my 
thoughts  have  been  with  home  and  God  all  day."  One  of  the 
women,  though  perhaps  used  to  better  surroundings,  had  less 
exalted  thoughts  than  the  sturdy  frontiersman,  for  she  did 
nothing  but  scold,  scold,  and  fret,  fret,  from  first  to  last. 

About  six  o'clock  the  sick  woman,  Pard,  and  I  changed  our 
seats  to  the  outside.  Pard  sat  above  and  behind  me,  and  I  sat 
between  the  invalid  and  the  driver.  Once  we  came  near  being 
hurled  top  down  into  the  Gunnison  River.  It  was  a  wondrously 
bad  place.  The  embankment  was  a  straight  up  and  down  cut  of 
six  feet  or  more,  and  the  water  of  Gunnison  River  was  running 
deep  and  swift  against  that  shore.  A  quick  cry  of  "  to  the  right " 
from  the  driver  made  everybody  lean  that  way,  while  he  himself 
stood  out  on  the  brake  block  and  we  passed  in  safety  and 
thanksgiving. 

After  that  escape  a  hush  seemed  to  fall  upon  the  whole 
party  with  the  solemnity  of  the  night  itself,  and  darkness  closed 
the  day  and  veiled  other  dangers  from  view.  The  quiet  was 
finally  broken  by  another  warning  from  the  driver,  and  we  all 
leaned  to  the  north,  but  our  time  had  come,  and  in  spite  of  all 


21 8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

efforts  we  went  over  rattle- ty-bang-smash-crash,  coach,  bodies, 
baggage,  mail,  treasiire  box,  and  tools,  in  a  heap  and  all  in  the 
dark.  The  first  that  I  realized  was  that  Pard  was  pulling  me 
head  first  under  some  brush  to  get  me  away  from  the  stage  for 
fear  the  horses  would  drag  it  over  me.  The  horses  made  a  lunge 
forward  but  men  were  at  their  heads  in  an  instant ;  the  driver 
had  jumped  with  the  lines  in  his  hands  and  the  stage  was  not 
dragged  far. 

"Are  you  hurt"  went  the  rounds  with  lightning  speed,  and 
the  door  of  the  coach  was  hurriedly  opened  to  see  who  was  hurt 
inside.  Such  a  heterogeneous  mass  is  never  found  anywhere  but 
at  just  such  a  time  and  place.  Heads,  satchels,  feet,  baskets, 
limbs,  bodies,  and  bags  were  so  mixed  up  that  it  was  very  uncer- 
tain which  to  take  hold  of  to  the  best  advantage,  so  they  were 
taken  out  in  the  order  that  they  presented  themselves.  The 
coach  lay  on  its  side  and  the  passengers  had  to  be  taken  out  of  the 
door  which  was  then  on  the  top ;  it  was  pitch  dark  and  the  lamps 
of  the  stage  were  used  to  throw  a  glimmer  of  Hght  on  that 
internal  mixture  so  difficult  to  extricate. 

When  every  one  was  out  we  found  no  one  seriously  hurt, 
but  all  were  bruised  more  or  less.  The  woman  next  to  me 
kept  telling  that  I  fell  on  her  and  hurt  her,  as  if  it  were  a  fault  of 
mine  if  I  did.  I  finally  assured  her  that  I  had  not  chosen  the 
spot  to  fall  on  and  I  was  sure  her  bones  had  broken  one  or  more 
of  my  ribs.  All  the  baggage  in  the  front  boot,  including  the 
treasure  box,  mail  sacks,  and  case  of  tools,  showered  themselves 
over  us  in  a  very  liberal  manner.  I  did  not  feel  at  all  slighted  for 
want  of  attention  in  the  way  of  bumps  and  bangs,  but  I  would 
have  taken  them  all  cheerfully  if  the  shrew  had  only  bitten  her 
tongue,  but  even  that  pleasure  was  denied  us,  and  it  wagged  on 
worse  than  before,  until  we  wished  she  would  just  get  too  sick  to 
talk.  It  was  a  heartless  wish,  but  with  everything  going  wrong 
in  a  way  that  none  could  help  it  was  the  duty  of  every  one  to 
keep  himself  or  herself  from  adding  to  the  discomforts  of  others. 

Pard  had  been  ready  for  two  hours  to  slide  off  if  we  did 
go  over,  and  he  landed  on  his  feet,  with  only  a  strain  of  the  mus- 
cles and  a  bruised  ankle.  Sage-brush  fires  were  finally  lighted  to 
aid  in  finding  and  reloading  various  belongings  and  when  the 
stage  started  on  again  most  of  the  men  walked  the  remaining 
miles  to  Gunnison. 


"  We  went  over  with  baggage,  mail,  treasure  box,  and   tools " 


219 


220         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


We  did  not  attach  any  blame  to  the  driver,  for  he  did  the  best 
that  could  have  been  done.  But  we  did  blame  the  owners  of 
that  toll  road  for  our  day  of  misery.  I  am  not  given  to  fault- 
finding without  reason,  for  accidents  will  occur  sometimes  in 
spite  of  every  caution.  But  in  the  3000  miles  of  stage  travel 
that  we  had  had  up  to  that  time  we  never  spent  such  an  un- 
happy day,  when  every  moment  was  in  anticipation  of  disaster, 

or  filled  with  the 
woes  of  others. 
Nothing  would 
have  tempted  us  to 
return  that  route 
to  Poncha  unless  on 
horseback  or  afoot. 
Fortunately,  how- 
ever, we  hoped  to 
reach  the  railroad 
again  by  swinging 
around  a  circle  to 
Alamosa. 

When  we  drove 
up  to  the  Gunnison 
Hotel  at  the  witch- 
ing hour  of  mid- 
night I  gave  a  quick 
searching  glance  at 
the  house  to  make 
sure  that  it  would 
stand  until  morn- 
ing, then  hastened  to  the  quiet  of  our  own  room  for  a  few  hours 
of  rest.  How  thankful  we  were  that  we  had  arrived  there 
without  more  serious  mishaps.  I  held  my  Pard  at  arm's  length 
and  beheld  with  pardonable  pride  that  he  was  neither  lame, 
halt,  nor  blind,  and  I  pinched  myself  to  make  sure  I  was  all 
together. 

The  morning  opened  to  our  view  the  beautiful  Gunnison  val- 
ley, and  the  town  which  lies  almost  at  the  juncture  of  the  Tomichi 
and  Gunnison  rivers.  For  miles  in  every  direction  the  ground 
was  as  flat  as  a  table,  but  on  the  outskirts  the  mountains 
suddenly  rose  and  encircled  the  valley. 


Gunnison  disturbers  of  the  peace 


L 


A  Stage  Upset  on  the  Gunnison  Road    221 

The  only  disturbers  of  the  peace  were  one  or  two  hundred 
burros  that  made  the  nights  musical  or  "noisical"  with  their 
incessant  braying  when  people  wanted  to  sleep,  and  it  was  sur- 
prising how  they  aroused  volleys  of  heavy  exclamations  that 
paper  walls  could  not  smother. 

The  valley  was  fertile  and  well  watered,  and  camps  for  miles 
around  afforded  a  most  excellent  market  and  good  prices,  and 
the  citizens  were  sanguine  of  success  and  prosperity  for  their 
favored  town.  The  first  steam  whistle  in  Gunnison  valley 
sounded  its  shrill  shriek  the  2d  day  of  August,  1880,  and  was 
echoed  by  over  a  hundred  voices.  The  Gunnison  country  in- 
cluded not  only  Gunnison  County,  but  all  the  country  drained 
by  the  river  of  the  same  name  and  its  tributaries.  Gunnison 
City  seemed  destined  to  be  a  railroad  centre  and  distributing 
point  for  miners*  supplies  and  provisions  as  it  was  an  import- 
ant junction,  from  which  many  roads  would  emanate  to  the 
mountains,  and  south  to  the  San  Juan  region. 

Gunnison  County  was  capable  of  supporting  a  larger  popula- 
tion than  was  then  in  the  entire  State  of  Colorado,  and  its  area 
was  more  than  the  States  of  Massachusetts  and  Rhode  Island 
combined.  As  yet  the  ranchmen  devoted  their  time  and  attention 
mostly  to  raising  hay,  which  was  by  far  the  most  profitable  of 
agricultural  employments.  By  proper  care  in  irrigation  many 
have  raised  from  one  hundred  to  five  hundred  tons  of  hay  that 
brought  them  from  sixty  to  one  hundred  dollars  per  ton.  The 
town  site  of  Gunnison  City  as  then  laid  out  included  about  a 
thousand  acres  and  offered  inducements  and  opportunities  for 
many  branches  of  industry.  Several  sawmills  were  already  in 
operation,  and  they  dotted  the  country  everywhere,  and  still 
there  was  a  demand  for  more;  the  timber  was  plenty  and  of 
large  growth.  The  pioneer  newspaper,  the  Gunnison  Review y 
was  first  issued  on  May  15th,  edited  by  one  Colonel  Hale,  and, 
the  first  copy  was  sold  at  auction  for  $100  to  Gen.  George  A. 
Stone.  There  were  three  weekly  papers  in  1880  giving  the  local 
and  mining  news.  Thus  far  the  country  promised  well,  and  from 
reliable  information  gained  there  our  trips  to  the  mining  camps 
and  coal  fields  resulted  in  aiding  the  development  of  the  mineral 
wealth  then  hidden  in  its  treasure  vaults. 

There  were  three  stage  lines  running  from  Gunnison  to 
Ruby  Camp,  a   distance  of   thirty  miles;    also  stage  lines  to 


222         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Crested  Butte,  Lake  City,  and  other  towns  and  camps,  and 
when  we  had  gathered  in  all  the  knowledge  we  could  absorb 
in  Gunnison  we  wended  our  way  on  toward  Irwin  and  Ruby 
Camp. 


CHAPTER  XX 
ROUGHING   IT  IN   RUBY   CAMP 


-^''^ 


HEN  leaving 
Gunnison  the 
ride  up  along 
Ohio  Creek 
was  as  smooth 
as  a  floor.  For 
twenty  miles 
or  more  the 
land  was 
taken  up  for 
hay,  and  the 
little  frontier 
homes,  though 

miles  apart  dotted  the  wayside  and  offered  hospitality  to  many 
a  weary  traveller.  We  selected  the  home  of  Mr.  Edward  Teach- 
out,  twelve  miles  from  Gunnison  City,  as  a  place  to  rest  quietly 
for  a  few  days  before  making  any  further  researches  in  the  min- 
ing belt  around  the  Ruby  Camp.  There  were  times  when  bodies 
and  brains  reached  the  limit  of  usage  and  endurance  and  this  was 
one  of  those  times.  I  must  say,  however,  that  Pard  never  stopped. 
Here,  as  elsewhere,  during  a  temporary  halt,  he  was  up  and  out 
on  a  horse  or  afoot  examining  mines  or  forests,  farming  lands,  or 
whatever  the  country  had  to  show.  His  appetite  for  facts  was 
insatiable  and  his  energy  and  endurance  in  going  after  them  passed 
my  understanding. 

Mrs.  Teachout  was  a  cultivated  woman,  and  no  doubt  was  a 
reigning  belle  in  her  younger  days  as  she  still  retained  much  of  her 
maiden  beauty.  Miss  Fairchilds,  a  niece  and  guest  from  Cali- 
fornia, made  a  charming  companion,  and  together  we  roamed  the 
hills  and  fields  and  gathered  flowers  and  grasses,  watched  the 
cutting  and  stacking  of  the  hay,  and  withal  enjoyed  a  week  of 

223 


224         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

quiet  outdoor  life  that  was  an  elixir  for  our  regeneration.  A 
young  lady  with  such  rare  accomplishments  as  Miss  Fairchilds 
possessed  was  a  prize  in  that  part  of  the  country  and  she  was 
truly  appreciated.  Such  a  woman  on  the  frontier  in  the  '70's 
and  early  '8o's  was  like  an  angel  from  heaven. 

Away  on  the  left  between  Teachout  ranch  and  the  camp  of 
Irwin  was  the  grand  Castle  Rock,  the  most  worthy  of  the  name 
of  many  that  bear  the  same  title  in  the  Rockies.  Its  peaks  are 
many  and  pointed,  and  but  for  its  immensity  would  be  declared 
a  very  castle  indeed.  A  little  farther  on  was  King's  ranch,  which 
became  so  noted  for  its  comforts  and  discomforts  the  previous 
winter.  Many  people  found  a  cold  winter's  night  closing  around 
them  as  they  neared  this  place,  and  rather  than  risk  farther 
progress  in  the  stormclad  hills  would  apply  there  for  lodging. 
To  every  applicant  would  be  given  a  royal  affirmative,  and  as 
fast  as  he  would  fall  asleep  his  blankets  would  be  stealthily  taken 
off  and  given  to  the  next  comer  at  one  dollar  per ;  as  long  as  any- 
one came  the  blankets  would  continue  to  be  purloined  and  passed 
along.  The  men  would  be  so  sound  asleep  that  they  would  not 
know  the  blanket  had  been  pulled  away  from  them  until  awak- 
ened by  the  cold.  No  one  ever  failed  to  find  a  good  fire  burning 
to  make  up  for  the  absence  of  the  coverings,  but  with  mercury 
at  the  freezing  point  or  lower  they  cried  for  blankets  when  they 
were  paying  a  dollar  apiece  for  a  bed.  When  some  one  would 
lose  his  temper  over  the  treatment,  Mr.  King  would  finally  tell 
him  there  was  no  promise  to  furnish  blankets  with  the  bed,  and 
it  became  quite  a  saying  throughout  the  camp  for  anything  that 
was  lacking  to  be  "as  scarce  as  King's  blankets."  But  King  and 
his  partner  kept  the  boys  all  good  natured  by  sometimes  giving  up 
their  own  beds  and  blankets  and  sitting  up  to  keep  the  fire  blazing. 

We  had  the  top  seats  engaged  for  the  drive  from  King's 
Station  but  a  big  coarse  drummer,  disregarding  the  efforts  of 
Pard  and  the  stage  agent  to  put  me  there  and  notwithstanding 
their  polite  explanation  that  I  was  ill,  brutally  responded,  "It 
serves  her  right;  a  woman  has  no  business  travelling  in  this 
country,"  and  roughly  forced  his  way  to  the  seat.  A  crowd  was 
gathering,  Pard  was  furious,  but  I  managed  to  get  him  inside. 
At  the  first  station  the  drummer  crawled  down  to  stretch  him- 
self and  Pard,  remarking  that  he  would  now  proceed  to  take  that 
seat,  and  I  should  follow  when  the  trouble  was  over,  quickly 


Roughing  it  in  Ruby  Camp 


225 


mounted  the  box.  The  ruffian  came  on  the  run,  cursing  at  e very- 
jump,  and  started  to  pull  Pard  to  the  ground.  But  he  ran  his 
face  against  the  cold  steel  of  a  six  shooter  and  was  advised  that 
a  creature  so  devoid  of  every  attribute  of  a  gentleman  would 
surely  get  his  deserts  if  he  persisted.  He  muttered  dire  ven- 
geance while  I  was  being  elevated  to  the  coveted  perch,  but  the 
belligerents  finished  the  journey  on  the  same  inside  seat  Hke  two 
turtle  doves.  Years  afterward  the  man  recognized  me  in  a  dis- 
tant State,  brazenly  introducing  himself  as  the  party  who  had  so 
narrowly  escaped  being  shot  by  my  husband  in  the  Gunnison 
country.  Advising  him  that  I  was  annoyed  at  his  effrontery  and 
did  n't  care  to  renew  the 
acquaintance  he  turned  mut- 
tering half  to  himself,  "  Well, 
by  thunder!  you  're  most  as 
nervy  as  the  old  man." 

We  found  Ruby  Camp  a 
stirring  and  wide-awake 
place,  10,300  feet  above  sea- 
level.  The  only  hotel  or 
lodging  house  was  graced  by 
the  inviting  title  of  Ruby 
Home,  so  we  were  hardly 
prepared  for  the  rude  quar- 
ters that  we  found  within. 
There  was  no  register,  and 
the  proprietor    ushered    us 

through  the  office,  up  a  narrow  flight  of  stairs,  to  a  room  with- 
out a  number,  as  were  all  the  others.  The  room  was  about  nine 
feet  square,  and  contained  a  slat  bedstead,  covered  with  a  thin 
straw  tick,  but  no  mattress. 

In  another  corner  was  a  pine  stand  without  toilet  conven- 
iences of  any  kind.  Glancing  around  the  room  I  saw  half  a 
dozen  pairs  of  eyes  scanning  us  in  a  most  exasperating  manner, 
and  the  voices  belonging  to  the  eyes  seemed  to  be  talking  in  my 
very  ears.  The  house  had  no  semblance  of  a  "home"  inside  or 
out;  it  was  simply  a  pile  of  boards  nailed  up  in  the  shape  of  a 
house  with  only  plain,  rough  board  partitions  that  had  shrunken 
apart  so  far  that  there  was  absolutely  no  privacy  in  the  room. 
Lifting  my  eyes  from  the  hypnotic  gaze  of  those  already  peering 

IS 


The  beautiful  Gunnison  Valley 


226         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

at  us  through  the  openings  we  saw  that  even  those  rough  boards 
between  the  rooms  were  raised  but  a  few  inches  above  our  heads. 

Pard  dispatched  himself  to  get  a  hammer  and  tacks  and  came 
back  bringing  also  a  pail  of  water  and  a  tin  basin.  He  had  asked 
the  man  in  charge  of  the  combination  barroom  and  office  where 
I  could  go  to  wash  off  the  heavy  dust  and  had  been  told  I  could 
go  "over  there"  indicating  with  his  thumb  turned  backward  that 
I  could  go  to  the  same  place  where  a  dozen  or  more  miners  were 
"washing  up"  for  supper  in  a  small  hole  in  the  wall  under  the 
stairs.  Pard  declined  the  suggestion  to  make  my  toilet  in  that 
spot  and  immediately  got  busy  hunting  some  facilities  for  our 
room.  He  had  to  buy  the  basin  and  pail,  but  the  man  did  give 
him  a  little  ten  or  twelve  inch  towel.  But  we  always  carried  our 
own  towels  and  soap. 

What  newspapers  we  could  find,  together  with  wraps  and 
wearing  apparel  not  in  use,  were  tacked  on  the  walls  to  cover  the 
openings  into  other  rooms  and  shut  out  the  inspection  of  in- 
quisitive neighbors.  On  one  side  was  a  doctor's  office,  on  the 
other  was  a  couple  belonging  to  a  variety  troupe,  and  more  of  the 
same  kind  were  across  the  hall,  and  in  fact  the  house  was  pretty 
full  of  hard  characters  of  a  class  which  frequent  mining  camps. 

The  rain  descended  in  torrents  all  the  afternoon  and  confined 
us  indoors;  the  roof  leaked  and  everybody  had  to  skirmish 
about  and  care  for  his  belongings  and  hunt  a  dry  corner. 
There  was  a  sunny  spot  in  it  all  for  us  as  Pard  came  up  bringing 
an  old  college  friend  who  had  become  interested  in  a  mine  there 
and  who  related  his  tenderfoot  experiences  in  a  most  amusing 
way.  It  was  not  only  amusing  to  us,  but  the  chuckles  that  came 
from  the  other  side  of  partitions  revealed  the  presence  of  others 
who  were  also  entertained. 

What  a  rude  anchorage  that  was.  Never  before  or  since 
have  we  been  in  a  mining  camp  with  rougher  and  more  unsightly 
environs  than  in  the  camps  of  Irwin  and  Ruby.  The  stumps 
were  not  yet  cleared  away  and  the  virgin  soil  was  bottomless, 
not  a  board  to  walk  on  anywhere,  not  a  place  in  the  great  woods 
where  one  could  have  an  hour  alone.  Everywhere  the  prospector 
was  digging  for  gold  and  the  "yellow  fever"  was  as  contagious  as 
that  of  the  Sunny  South,  and  often  as  fatal  in  its  financial  results. 

As  night  came  on  bands  began  to  play,  and  the  most  popular 
dance  hall  was  the  one  towards  which  our  only  window  opened. 


Roughing  it  in  Ruby  Camp 


227 


f 


I 


The  sounds  from  the  Bacchanalian  hall  floated  through  the  room 
until  the  small  hours  of  the  night  were  well  on  and  we  were  at  a 
point  akin  to  suicide.  From  our  room  we  could  see  the  stars 
through  the  roof,  the  trees  and  the  beautiful  scenery  through  the 
side  walls,  and  by  looking  in  another  direction  could  watch  the 
changes  of  fortunes  at  the  gambling  tables,  and  the  beautiful 
glide  of  the  undulating,  delicious  waltz. 

Irwin  was  the 
supply  town  for 
some  three  thou- 
sand people,  and 
fully  that  many 
got  their  mail  at 
that  post-office. 
Mr.  Soule,  the 
postmaster,  a  p- 
pointed  the  Jan- 
uary previous 
when  the  camp 
first  opened  up, 
had  made  many 
solicitations  that 
Pard  write  up  the 
mines  and  the 
country's  pros- 
pects for  the 
Union  Pacific's 
advertising  pub- 
lications. 

Mr.  Soule's  hopes  for  the  camp  were  so  sure  that  he  had 
remained  there  all  winter  with  his  cabin  sixteen  feet  under  snow, 
with  a  stairway  of  snow  and  ice  leading  up  to  daylight.  A  pro- 
spector coming  up  the  mountain  on  snowshoes  one  day  suddenly 
saw  a  man  appear  before  him  in  a  way  we  used  to  read  about 
in  fairy  stories.  The  stranger  inquired  the  way  to  Irwin,  and 
when  told  that  he  was  above  the  town  he  wanted  to  know 
how  far  back  he  would  have  to  go  to  reach  the  post-office.  Mr. 
Soule  told  him  that  he  would  not  have  to  go  back  far,  but  about 
sixteen  feet  under,  and  bade  the  stranger  follow  him  and  they 
disappeared  in  the  hole  in  the  snow.     Mr.  Soule  spent  most  of 


The  house  had  no  semblance  of  a  home  inside  or  out** 


228         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

his  time  making  snowshoes  which  he  sold  at  $8  per  pair,  and  in 
the  spring  he  put  the  money  into  town  lots,  which  he  bought  at 
$10  apiece.  In  the  summer  following  the  same  lots  were  selling 
at  from  $iooo  to  $8ooo  each.  He  also  whittled  out  i68  boxes  for 
the  post-office  with  his  penknife,  and  a  large  case  of  pigeon  holes 
for  the  general  delivery.  The  scales  for  the  post-office  were 
composed  of  two  tin  plates  suspended  by  wires  from  an  old 
broom,  and  the  cross-bar  on  which  they  balanced  was  simply 
a  small  knife-blade,  while  the  weights  were  bits  of  metal.  The 
mail  was  delivered  that  summer  through  a  hole  in  the  window  to 
the  outside,  because  the  office  was  too  small  to  admit  the  crowd, 
and  it  was  an  interesting  sight  to  look  across  the  street  when 
the  miners  came  in  at  night,  and  see  the  masses  waiting  for  news 
of  home  and  friends. 

The  primitive  candle  was  the  only  illuminator,  for  coal  oil 
was  a  dollar  and  a  half  a  gallon,  making  it  too  much  of  a  luxury 
for  common  use.  Every  drink  over  the  bar  cost  the  imbiber 
twenty-five  cents  in  money,  to  say  nothing  of  the  days  of  life  it 
curtailed.  No  cigar  was  sold  for  less  than  the  proverbial  two 
bits,  and  the  till  of  the  tobacco  vender  was  always  full. 

They  told  the  story  of  a  tobacco  famine  that  spring  when 
the  supply  had  run  out,  and  the  wholesale  order  had  been  long 
overdue.  Such  a  miserable  set  of  men  I  suppose  is  seldom  seen. 
An  eye-witness  told  me  that  a  man  walking  along  the  street 
would  put  his  hands  in  every  pocket  from  one  to  three  times  in 
going  the  length  of  a  block,  besides  asking  every  man  he  met  for 
"a  chew."  The  request  would  be  answered  with  an  agonizing 
look  indicating  that  he  was  "dying  for  a  chew"  himself,  and 
without  a  word  and  only  a  woebegone  shake  of  the  head  he 
would  pass  on. 

In  all  mining  camps  men  bunch  together  and  cook  for  them- 
selves, either  taking  a  turn  about  or  having  one  of  their  number 
do  it  all,  and  then  share  equally  in  whatever  the  others  can  find 
in  prospecting.  They  would  live  that  way  for  five  or  six  dollars 
a  week,  but  otherwise  it  was  from  twelve  to  fifteen  dollars  a 
week  and  upward  according  to  distance  from  base  of  suppHes. 

There  were  seventy-five  business  buildings  in  Irwin,  but  they 
were  built  on  the  same  helter-skelter  plan  as  the  hotel ;  they  made 
a  cover  for  the  merchandise  and  that  answered  the  purpose  for 
the  time. 


Roughing  it  in  Ruby  Camp  229 

The  mines,  of  course,  were  the  all-absorbing  attractions, 
and  they  were  indeed  rich  and  tempting  to  the  poor  man  as  well 
as  to  the  capitalist.  A  majority  of  the  mines  of  Colorado,  it  is 
estimated,  are  named  after  women  and  children.  The  earnest 
affection  which  so  many  mining  men  feel  for  their  families,  the 
desperate  efforts  which  they  make  to  attain  wealth,  often  sac- 
rificing the  present  for  the  uncertain  future,  is  well  typified  in 
the  names  given  to  their  properties.  It  may  be  well  imagined 
that  when  a  man  names  his  mine  the  Emma,  that  Emma  is  his 
wife's  or  his  sweetheart's  name  and  that  he  is  fighting  the  world 
for  Emma's  dear  sake.  Many  a  miner  has  sat  over  his  camp- 
fire  on  a  bleak  night,  while  his  heart  was  filled  with  thoughts  of 
his  wife  and  children.  The  sunny  hopes  and  the  dark  fears 
which  cluster  about  the  names  of  mines  are  many.  When  a  man 
names  a  claim  "The  Only  Hope"  or  "The  Bottom  Dollar," 
there  is  doubtless  more  pathos  than  humor  in  the  association 
which  suggests  it,  although  the  title  usually  calls  a  smile  to  the 
lips  of  the  uninitiated.  The  names  were  probably  suggestive  to 
those  who  risked  their  little  all  with  small  prospect  of  return. 

The  most  famous  mine  in  Ruby  Camp,  however,  was  the 
Forest  Queen,  250  feet  above  Irwin  and  overlooking  the  town 
from  the  head  of  Coal  Creek.  The  surface  cropping  was  at 
places  a  thousand  feet  long  and  from  seventy-five  to  a  hundred 
feet  wide,  while  at  the  beginning  the  pay  streak  was  three  and  a 
half  feet,  and  in  places  had  widened  to  eight  feet.  The  returns 
received  of  one  carload  of  ore  was  619  ounces  of  silver  to  the  ton. 

There  were  several  kinds  of  silver  formations  in  other  mines 
there  as  well  as  the  Forest  Queen.  The  ruby  silver,  so  rare 
in  other  parts  of  Colorado,  ran  plentifully  through  these  mines 
and  the  ore  was  a  rich  ruby  hue  in  spots.  The  brittle  silver  had 
more  the  appearance  of  lead  and  was  scattered  through  the  ruby 
ore  and  in  some  of  the  richer  specimens  they  were  bound  to- 
gether by  the  dainty  fibres  of  wire  silver.  Any  one  of  these 
varieties  were  largely  pure  silver.  This  mine  had  paid  up- 
wards of  $200  net  per  foot  for  every  foot  sunk.  The  owners  were 
such  well-known  men  as  Col.  D.  C.  Dodge,  of  the  D.  &.  R.  G. 
Railway,  George  M.  Pullman,  of  palace-car  fame,  Gen.  J.  W. 
Palmer,  president  of  the  D.  &.  R.  G.  Railway,  and  R.  W. 
Woodbury,  proprietor  of  the  Denver  Daily  Times. 

While  waiting  for  Pard  to  come  out  of  a  prospect  hole  that  he 


230         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


was  investigating,  I  was  entertained  by  Supt.  S.  R.  T.  Lindley 
of  the  Goodenough  Mining  Co.,  who  evidently  thought  I  was  the 
greenest  kind  of  a  pilgrim,  as  he  related  to  me  the  following 
incident : 

"I  crossed  the  country  from  Missouri  to  California  in  '49. 

I  started  with  five  wagons  and 
eight  oxen  to  each  wagon,  plenty 
of  provisions  and  $3500  in  money. 
I  had  to  fight  Indians  and  Mor- 
mons all  the  way  across  the  plains 
and  they  finally  stole  nearly  all 
my  stock  and  grub,  and  so  I  burned 
all  my  wagons  but  one.  When  I 
reached  South  Pass  in  Wyoming  I 
had  been  living  on  mule  meat  for 
nine  days  and  was  about  starved. 
There  I  found  a  man  just  ready  to 
eat  his  dinner,  and  I  saw  before  him 
a  plate  of  well-cooked  beans.  They 
looked  mighty  good  to  me  and  I 
began  by  offering  him  $5  for  his 
plate  of  beans,  then  on  to  $50, 
$100,  $200,  $500,  but  still  he  refused 
to  share  with  me,  so  I  drew  my 
roll  of  bills  from  my  belt,  and  slap- 
ping down  two  $500  bills  on  the 
table  before  him  I  gathered  the 
beans  from  him  and  left.  I  tell 
you,  Mrs.  S.,  those  were  hard  days 
to  travel,  but  the  Mormons  gave  me  more  trouble  than  the 
Indians  did,  by  far." 

I  expressed  my  sympathy  and  thanks  as  well  as  I  could 
and  preserve  proper  decorum,  for  my  risibles  were  fast  gaining 
the  mastery,  and  I  made  my  escape.  I  came  back  to  our  fan- 
tastically draped  room  and  swung  the  window  back  on  its  hinges 
to  the  wall  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  my  face  in  the  little  mirror  and 
see  if  I  did  look  so  verdant  as  to  believe  such  a  story,  and  then 
sat  down  to  ponder  over  it.  His  animals  were  all  oxen,  but  just 
the  same  he  lived  on  mule  meat  nine  days;  he  paid  out  $500  bills 
long  before  they  were  issued  by  our  government,  and  fought  more 


Spectre  Monument 


Roughing  it  in  Ruby  Camp  231 

Mormons  than  Indians  four  years  previous  to  the  first  Mormon 
outbreak,  as  it  was  not  until  '53  that  they  gave  any  trouble  to 
overland  travellers. 

On  the  bank  of  Brennan  Lake  above  the  town  there  stood 
the  fine  residence  of  Richard  Irwin,  a  noted  mountaineer,  after 
whom  the  camp  was  named.  In  spite  of  the  altitude  of  Irwin 
the  mountains  rise  around  it  in  emerald  heights  over  a  thousand 
feet,  and  rich  forests  extend  almost  to  the  tops  that  will  make  the 
buzz  of  the  saw  resound  for  many  years. 

One  of  the  largest  feathers  in  the  cap  of  the  Centennial  State 
was  the  finding  of  large  beds  of  anthracite  coal.  Three  miles 
from  Irwin,  down  Anthracite  Creek,  were  1000  acres  of  anthra- 
cite coal  cropping  out  all  over  the  surface.  A  tunnel  had  been 
run  in  fifty  feet  and  the  vein  found  to  be  seven  and  eight  feet 
thick,  with  the  indications  that  it  would  run  from  fifty  to  a 
hundred  feet,  and  the  largest  vein  in  Pennsylvania  is  only  thirty 
feet  thick.  Coal  exposed  here  for  ages  was  as  bright  and  solid  as 
it  could  be. 

Eight  miles  east  of  Irwin  was  Crested  Butte,  connected  with 
the  former  and  also  directly  with  Gunnison  City  by  stage.  In 
all  probability  it  expected  to  be  the  terminus  of  the  railroad,  as 
the  road  bed  could  run  at  a  water  grade  over  the  range  into  the 
limits  of  the  town  by  any  one  of  the  four  passes — Cottonwood, 
Alpine,  Monarch,  or  Marshall.  It  was  not  so  near  the  rich 
mining  district,  but  it  was  a  thousand  feet  lower,  and  would  be 
the  home  of  the  miners  and  the  officials  of  mines  and  railways. 
There  were  openings  into  the  valley  from  all  directions,  and  it  was 
the  natural  home  and  supply  town  for  the  surrounding  camps. 

As  might  be  guessed  from  the  above  showing  of  a  possible 
great  railway  centre,  my  first  venture  in  real  estate  in  a  mining 
camp  was  at  Crested  Butte.  Then  after  my  paying  taxes  on  the 
lots  for  several  years  the  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  pushed  into  the 
town  and  occupied  the  ground  until  it  thought  it  had  a  better 
right  to  the  property  than  I  had.  The  company  surely  had  pos- 
session and  I  was  miles  away,  and  they  still  have  it.  I  am  no 
longer  paying  taxes  on  it,  although  they  never  bought  it. 

Eight  miles  farther  east  was  the  little  camp  of  Gothic,  with 
its  Sylvanite  mine.  Masses  of  ore  weighing  from  one  hundred  to 
five  hundred  pounds  literally  studded  with  ruby,  native  and  wire 
silver,  were  taken  from  the  mine  almost  daily.     Ingots  of  nearly 


232        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

pure  silver,  weighing  from  half  a  pound  to  a  pound  and  a  half 
had  also  been  taken  out.  Two  sacks  of  ore  at  the  mine,  weigh- 
ing eighty-five  pounds  each,  contained  $800  worth  of  silver  each, 
and  twelve  tons  then  ready  for  shipment  would  average  $3500 
per  ton.  The  mine  produced  some  of  the  most  beautiful  cabinet 
specimens  of  any  in  the  State. 

These  were  developments  which  it  was  believed  would  aston- 
ish the  mining  world  and  attract  more  attention  during  1881  than 
residents  could  imagine.  The  Gunnison  country  was  no  longer 
a  wilderness  "out  of  the  world"  of  which  capital  need  be  timid 
for  stage  lines  ran  to  and  through  nearly  all  districts. 

In  later  years  when  our  steam  train  rolled  gaily  along  through 
Gunnison  en  route  to  Salt  Lake  we  were  indulging  in  memories 
of  our  stage  experiences  through  there  and  commenting  on  the 
luxurious  comforts  of  our  Pullman  car  when,  without  warning,  an 
engine  came  at  rapid  speed  after  us  and  plunged  into  our  car, 
tearing  off  the  rear  platform  and  doing  much  injury  to  our  train. 
My  first  thought  was  that  the  train  was  attacked  by  bandits 
for  we  came  to  such  a  quick  halt.  I  had  just  retired  and,  though 
stunned  from  the  concussion,  I  felt  the  sensation  that  I  had  been 
shot  in  the  head  and  expected  to  find  my  hand  bathed  in  my 
own  blood  when  I  took  it  from  my  head,  but  it  was  dry.  The  win- 
dow was  not  broken  and  yet  there  was  such  a  scampering  and 
running  through  the  aisle  that  my  worst  fears,  aside  from  being 
shot,  seemed  confirmed  and  I  began  looking  out  for  Pard,  who 
had  been  standing  in  the  passage  way.  He  had  been  thrown 
down  with  others  and  made  a  toboggan  slide  to  the  other  end 
of  the  car,  but  was  not  badly  hurt,  although  he  came  up  rub- 
bing various  bruised  places,  and  told  me  a  wild  engine  had  struck 
us  and  bounded  right  back,  not  coming  on  again  to  see  what  the 
damage  was. 

Arriving  in  Salt  Lake  our  car  was  found  to  be  split  almost 
from  end  to  end,  and  it  was  considered  a  marvellous  escape  that  it 
did  not  fall  apart  on  the  winding  precipices  of  Black  Canyon. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


LAKE  CITY   AND   WAGON   WHEEL   GAP. 
THE   ROYAL   GORGE 


ALAMOSA    AND 


Ready  for  the  trail 


^ROM  Ruby  Camp  back 
to  Gunnison,  thence  to 
Lake  City,  our  only 
travelling  companions  in 
the  stage  were  another 
man  and  his  wife,  who 
were  exceedingly  anxious 
to  reach  their  destina- 
tion. The  road  was  in 
a  distressful  condition. 
The  anticipation  of  a 
railroad  and  a  hurry 
to  make  money  had  left 
the  road  full  of  chuck- 
holes  and  perilous  places. 
The  poor  little  wo- 
man began  to  be  very 
ill  and  never  did  man's  eyes  glow  with  more  loving  solicitude 
than  did  the  distressed  husband's.  We  hurried  the  driver  with 
all  possible  speed  to  the  next  station  where  we  left  the  young 
wife  a  happy  mother  of  a  new  born  babe. 

We  spent  several  days  in  Lake  City  entertained  at  the  home 
of  Col.  Henry  C.  Olney,  who  was  then  editor  of  the  Lake  City 
Herald.  Pard  and  Mr.  Olney  made  trips  to  Silverton  and  Ouray 
looking  up  statistics  and  conditions  for  new  railroads.  A  fine 
pair  of  twin  babies  had  come  to  make  the  Olney  home  an  Elysium 
of  joy,  and  now  that  they  are  grown  to  manhood  and  woman- 
hood they  are  filling  all  the  promises  of  their  tender  years. 
They  are  now  married  and  rearing  families  of  their  own  in  the 
glorious  state  of  Washington.  Colonel  Olney  had  left  a  posi- 
tion on  the  Rocky  Mountain  News  to  try  his  fortune  in  the  new 

233 


234         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Gunnison  gold  fields  where  towns  rise  and  fall  in  a  night  with 
the  news  of  richer  prospects  farther  on.  When  news  comes  of  a 
rich  strike  and  the  local  lodes  are  disappointing,  then  the  ham- 
mers and  saws  get  into  active  service,  tents  come  down,  goods 
are  loaded,  horses  are  brought  in,  harnessed  and  saddled, 
busy  wives  gather  the  children  and  belongings,  and  a  hamper  of 
food,  and  by  the  time  day  comes  again  the  sun  shines  on  only  a 
few  stragglers  who  hope  to  subsist  and  perhaps  profit  on  the 
pickings  of  the  deserted  camp.  It  is  a  sad  but  oft-repeated  strug- 
gle for  the  one  who  can  not  resist  the  charm  of  possibility,  the 
hope  of  much  for  little,  calculating  not  on  the  actual  percentage 
of  successful  ones,  and  believing  the  next  victory  may  be  his. 
The  hunger  for  gold  in  a  mine  is  a  disease  more  contagious  than 
measles,  and  once  in  the  blood  it  is  seldom,  if  ever,  eradicated. 

From  Lake  City  to  Wagon  Wheel  Gap  was  one  of  those  never- 
to-be-forgotten  trips  that  were  occasionally  sandwiched  into  our 
unusual  experiences.     According  to  expectation,  we  were  bundled 


^^--j) 


Hunting  on  skees. 


into  the  coach  at  the  unseasonable  hour  of  half  past  five  a.m. 
Leaving  Lake  City  we  were  soon  jolting  along  up  Slum  Gullion 
Gulch  over  the  corduroy  road ,  bumpet y  bump ,  bump .  The  driver 
was  a  cross,  surly  old  fellow  who  had  a  good  word  for  no  one. 

When  Pard  engaged  our  seats  at  the  stage  office  he  was  told 
some  of  the  peculiarities  of  the  driver  for  that  day,  and  among 
other  things  he  was  said  to  be  a  confirmed  "woman  hater," 
and  that  the  outside  seat  with  him  might  not  be  pleasant  for  me. 
Pard  insisted  that  I  should  have  it  as  there  were  five  or  six  men 
booked  for  the  inside,  making  the  choice,  if  there  was  any,  in 
favor  of  sharing  the  driver's  seat.  In  spite  of  his  frowns  and 
cursing  the  horses  as  he  drove  up  for  us,  I  determined  to  try  his 
society  and  keep  in  the  fresh  air. 


Lake  City  and  Wagon  Wheel  Gap       235 

The  six  white  horses  were  full  of  ginger  until  they  came  to  the 
steady  pull  up  the  mountain,  and  then  the  heartless  fellow  laid 
on  the  lash.  He  did  not  want  a  woman  outside,  and  he  de- 
termined to  sicken  me  of  my  bargain  and  make  me  glad  to  go 
under  cover.  He  drove  like  fury  over  that  twenty  miles  of 
corduroy  road,  and  more  than  two  thirds  of  the  time  I  balanced 
between  heaven  and  earth,  clinging  to  the  straps  and  iron  bar 
at  the  end  of  the  seat  with  a  tenacity  of  a  life  and  death  effort. 
He  would  venture  within  a  hair's  breadth  of  going  off  the  bridges 
and  turn  out  to  the  very  edge  of  a  precipice,  as  well  as  doing  other 
stunts  that  led  me  to  believe  the  man  was  crazy  as  well  as  queer. 
I  knew  he  was  trying  to  make  me  scream  with  fright,  which  I 
as  stubbornly  refused  to  do. 

Beyond  a  long  swinging  curve  was  a  down  grade  of  a  mile, 
and  with  a  yell  and  a  flourish  of  his  whip  the  driver  urged  his 
horses  to  a  dead  run.  The  six  passengers  on  the  inside  had  to 
hang  on  for  dear  life,  and  every  half  minute  the  lumbering  stage 
seemed  bound  to  go  over  the  cliff.  I  could  hear  the  men  on  the 
inside  being  thrown  about  like  bags  of  sand,  and  the  epithets 
that  emerged  from  there  proved  to  me  they  were  glad  a  woman 
was  not  there  to  check  their  wrath  against  our  jehu.  That  he 
kept  going  and  did  not  give  them  a  chance  to  get  out  was  all 
that  saved  him  from  a  thrashing.  Once,  after  a  very  close  call 
for  a  tipover,  the  driver  growled  that  it  was  lucky  that  we  did 
not  hit  a  rock  that  time,  or  we  would  have  been  food  for  the 
bears. 

At  last  he  became  wearied  of  his  efforts  to  make  me  demon- 
strate my  fear,  and  ventured  the  remark,  "Well,  I  guess  you  've 
been  on  a  stage  before,  for  you  don't  seem  to  scare  very  easy." 
I  was  boiling  with  indignation  and  fear  but  I  swallowed  hard 
again  and  managed  to  tell  him  that  I  had  been  on  a  stage  once 
before,  but  I  did  not  have  a  grizzly  bear  for  a  driver,  so  I  was 
really  enjoying  a  new  and  novel  experience.  He  actually  grinned, 
showed  a  fine  row  of  teeth,  and  gave  a  big  grunt,  much  as  the 
beast  he  had  been  likened  to.  My  answer  to  him  had  been  just 
what  he  needed  and  it  mellowed  him  surprisingly.  He  had,  of 
course,  expected  tears  and  remonstrances,  but  this  straight  shot 
at  his  armor  weakened  him,  and  where  he  had  only  given  a  jerky 
monosyllabic  "yes"  or  "no"  to  questions  heretofore,  he  became 
exceedingly  loquacious  and  told  me  many  interesting  tales  of  the 


236         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

locality,  as  only  a  stage  driver  can.  But  I  was  only  too  glad  to 
reach  the  dinner  station  at  an  altitude  of  10,780  feet  above  sea- 
level,  and  the  end  of  many  hundred  thousand  feet,  as  it  had 
seemed  to  me,  of  corduroy  road.     It  was  a  bouncing  ride  such 


Gate  of  Ladore,  Colorado  River. 

as  I  would  not  want  to  repeat,  and  if  he  kept  up  his  habit  of 
trying  to  scare  people  he  doubtless  met  the  fate  he  deserved. 

The  man  who  handled  the  ribbons  after  dinner  was  not 
only  a  saner  man,  but  a  gentleman,  although  his  language  had 
degenerated  to  the  vernacular  of   his  later   associates — a  man 


Lake  City  and  Wagon  Wheel  Gap        237 

who  had  been  prominent  in  Eastern  railroad  affairs,  but  through 
adverse  fortune  was  now  buried  on  this  wild  stretch  of  road, 
hidden  from  all  his  old  associates,  who  knew  not  his  where- 
abouts. But  he  was  a  great,  goodnatured  whip  who  used 
to  know  "Tommy  Kimball"  (meaning  Thomas  L.  Kimball, 
General  Manager  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railway  Co.)  down  in 
Pennsylvania.  "We  used  to  do  railroadin*  together  down 
there,"  he  said,  "but  he  has  kept  at  it  and  done  well,  and  I 
went  off  into  Old  Mexico  and  went  to  drivin'  stage  and  have 
kept  at  it  now  nigh  on  to  twenty-six  years.  Tom  was  allers 
a  mighty  good  fellar,  and  if  he  ever  comes  out  here  broke  and 
wantin*  a  job,  he  can  just  have  my  sit,  sure  as  you  're 
bom." 

He  also  added,  for  our  benefit,  that  the  driver  we  had  that 
forenoon  "was  a  cuss  that  was  n't  worth  livin'."  He  heard  him 
bragging  round  the  barn  about  how  he  tried  to  scare  a  woman 
all  the  way  up  the  gulch,  and  added  that  "a  lot  of  our  drivers  '11 

scare  a  d d  sight  quicker  than  she  would  and  she  just  had  a 

good  time,  'peared  like.  Leastwise  she  never  said  she  was  a  bit 
scared  and  did  n't  yell  a  once."  Then  he  went  on  to  tell  other 
things  about  our  morning  driver  that  showed  it  was  not  always 
a  woman  whom  he  vented  his  venom  on.  "He  tried  to  skeer  a 
man  to  death  here  a  spell  back,  and  he  generally  does  scare  folks 
pretty  bad. 

"He  came  out  to  take  his  run  one  morning  and  looking  over 
the  passengers  selected  a  small,  pale-faced  man,  and  invited 
him  to  climb  up  beside  him.  While  the  pale-faced  man  was 
mounting  to  the  front  boot  the  driver  whispered  to  the  rest  of  his 
passengers  and  said:  'I  picked  him  out  to  skeer  him  to  death, 
and  I  'U  bet  I  '11  do  it.' 

"When  they  struck  that  corduroy  road — it 's  mighty  steep 
down  one  side  you  know,  and  that  bridge  over  the  creek  ain't 
got  no  railin'  on  it — ^Jake  just  laid  on  the  whip.  When  he 
run  close  to  the  edge  of  the  precipice  the  pale-faced  man  coolly 
told  him  that  he  was  only  about  four  inches  from  the  edge  that 
time,  and  old  Jake  just  kept  on  trying  to  do  mean  things,  but 
the  man  never  lost  a  puff  of  his  cigar. 

"  Three  or  four  miles  farther  on  the  driver  tried  his  man  with 
another  curve.  In  his  determination  to  make  a  close  call  of  it 
one  wheel  ran  off  the  edge  of  the  precipice,  and  only  a  sudden 


238         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

effort  of  the  horses  saved  the  coach;  the  passengers  inside  were 
flung  in  a  heap  and  frightened  half  to  death. 

"Finally  Jake  asked  the  fellar  if  he  wanted  to  drive  plumb 
over  the  precipice  that  was  a  thousand  feet  high,  and  he  was 
pretty  nigh  knocked  off  his  seat  himself,  when  the  fellar  told 
him  that  he  had  come  West  to  die,  and  it  made  no  difference  to 
him  how  quick  he  did  it.  It  just  knocked  the  sand  out  o' 
Jake  for  once,  and  I  ain't  heard  of  his  doin'  nothin*  of  that  kind 
since  'til  to-day. 

"I  guess  some  woman  must  a  done  him  'long  back  and  he 


Copyright  Detroit  Photo  Co. 


Wagon  Wheel  Gap 


feels  sort  o'  spiteful  against  'em  all,  but  he  had  a  lot  o'  good  things 
to  say  'bout  the  one  he  brought  up  to-day. "  And  with  a  chuckle 
he  added,  "O,  Jake  's  all  right,  he  ain't  all  bad,  but  he  orto  die." 
We  reached  Wagon  Wheel  Gap,  fifty-five  miles  southeast  of 
Lake  City,  at  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  We  found  mine 
host  McClelland  of  the  Wagon  Wheel  hotel,  with  his  carriage  at 
the  stage  office  ready  to  convey  us  to  the  Hot  Springs  Hotel, 
about  a  mile  distant.  Here  there  is  a  hot  sulphur  spring,  ellipti- 
cal in  shape,  about  ten  by  twenty  feet  across  the  top ;  it  shoots  up, 
not  in  little  bubbles,  but  in  columns,  at  a  temperature  of  1 14 


Lake  City  and  Wagon  Wheel  Gap  239 

degrees  Fahrenheit;  by  the  side  of  the  main  sulphur  hot  spring 
is  a  cold  soda  spring,  so  close  that  you  can  almost  dip  cold  water 
with  one  hand,  while  dipping  hot  water  with  the  other. 

While  the  hotel  was  not  large  there  were  good  accommoda- 
tions for  fifty  guests.  No  hotel  in  Colorado  set  a  better  table 
than  this  little  McClelland  house.  A  billiard  hall,  croquet 
grounds,  swings,  a  piano,  and  plenty  of  reading  matter  were 
afforded  the  seekers  of  health  or  pleasure,  and  neither  Mr.  nor 
Mrs.  McClelland  spared  any  pains  in  making  their  guests  com- 
fortable, happy,  and  contented. 

Fishing   and    hunting  were    extraordinarily    good.     White- 


MJi 


'^fg^vH&s  fs 


si.ys 


im 


A  herd  of  antelope  scenting  danger 

tailed  deer,  elk,  wild-cats,  mountain  lions,  antelope,  jack-rab- 
bits, mountain  sheep,  besides  grouse,  ducks,  geese,  and  various 
other  attractions  for  the  sportsmen  were  plenty.  The  angler  was 
enveloped  in  a  halo  of  bliss  as  he  readily  landed  the  gamiest  of 
mountain  trout  weighing  from  half  a  pound  to  foiir  and  five 
pounds.  The  best  hunting  and  fishing  was  in  September  and 
October.  The  springs  are  only  sixty-five  miles  from  Alamosa, 
and  the  Sanderson  Stage  Company  ran  a  morning  and  evening 
coach,  making  the  time  in  ten  hours. 

Four  Scotch  scientists,  after  visiting  all  the  American  min- 
eral springs,  pronounced  these  of  the  greatest  value  they  had 
found.  Upward  of  three  thousand  people  had  been  there  that 
summer.  There  were  large  specimen  beds  of  chalcedony  crys- 
tals and  petrified  wood  to  be  found  within  easy  walking  distance 
of  the  springs  hotel,  and  other  beautiful  specimens  of  less 
value. 

Wagon  Wheel  Gap  was  on  the  main  stage  line  between 


240         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Alamosa  and  Lake  City,  and  derived  its  name  from  the  finding 
of  a  wagon  wheel  in  a  narrow  gap  through  which  the  wagon  road 
and  the  Rio  Grande  River  pass.  The  wheel  is  said  to  have  been 
left  there  by  General  Fremont's  party  in  1853. 

We  spent  a  charming  week  at  this  delightful  place.  The 
baths,  the  pleasing  draughts,  rides,  walks,  and  merry  talks  made 
us  exuberant  in  spirits  and  joyous  in  heart.  We  left  there  with 
the  fond  hope  that  we  might  soon  return,  but  we  have  never  been 
back  to  renew  the  happy  times  we  have  cherished. 

We  left  the  Gap  about  eight  o'clock  one  beautiful  morning 
with  every  prospect  of  a  pleasant  day.  The  sky  was  cloudless, 
and  the  stage  passengers  were  especially  agreeable.  But  the  clouds 
gathered,  as  clouds  will,  and  before  the  day  was  half  gone  they 
had  favored  us  with  a  bounteous  supply  of  condensed  vapor.  I 
am  at  a  loss  how  to  express  the  beauty  of  the  rainbow  that  fol- 
lowed the  storm  and  its  strange  effects.  It  seemed  to  start  from 
the  middle  of  the  road  in  advance  of  us,  and  arched  over  the  hills 
in  dazzling  kaleidoscopic  grandeur.  The  nearer  we  approached 
it  the  brighter  were  the  hues.  The  childish  story  so  often  heard 
in  younger  days  of  the  pot  of  gold  that  could  be  found  where  the 
rainbow  kissed  the  ground  came  vividly  to  mind.  Nearer  and 
nearer  we  advanced  till  the  horses'  ears  were  colored,  then  like  a 
flash  we  were  baptized  in  its  radiance  and  it  was  left  behind. 

Twenty  miles  from  the  Gap,  or  about  forty  miles  from  Ala- 
mosa, and  within  ten  miles  of  Del  Norte  we  entered  the  famous 
San  Luis  valley,  which  is  the  most  remarkable  park  in  the  West. 
It  is  supposed  to  be  the  bed  of  what  was  once  an  inland  sea  and 
there  are  many  evidences  of  it  throughout  this  section. 

In  the  northern  part  it  is  broken  and  hilly  with  an  altitude 
of  over  8000  feet,  but  it  gradually  flattens  out  its  entire  length 
until  it  is  as  level  as  an  Illinois  prairie.  On  the  west  are  the 
snowy  peaks  of  the  San  Juan  range  and  on  the  east  the  white 
crest  of  the  continental  divide  in  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  range. 
Across  the  southern  portion  of  the  park  is  a  low  divide  separat- 
ing it  from  the  Rio  Grande  valley. 

Thus  the  park  is  a  vast  reservoir  which  receives  the  waters 
of  hundreds  of  mountain  streams,  many  of  which  are  swollen 
into  rivers  of  goodly  size  and  form  the  group  of  San  Luis  lakes ; 
but  here  the  mystery  of  Great  Salt  Lake  has  its  counterpart  for 
this  great  basin  has  no  visible  outlet.     Unlike  the  Salt  Lake 


Veta  Pass  and  the  Royal  Gorge  241 


valley,  however,  this  one  is 
fertile  and  rich,  especially 
along  the  streams  and  foot  of 
the  mountains,  all  hardy  cer- 
eals and  vegetables  grow  to 
perfection.  The  foothills  and 
minor  valleys  were  covered 
with  rich  grass  that  afforded 
pasturage  for  thousands  of 
cattle  and  sheep. 

Entirely  around  the  edge 
of  the  valley,  as  if  affording 
the  mountains  a  footstool, 
runs  a  smooth  glasis  resem- 
bling the  sea  beach  as  it  looks 
at  the  junction  of  land  and 
sea. 

The  immensity  of  the  moun- 
tains of  the  great  San  Juan 
country  is  beyond  compare. 
There  are  a  hundred  and 
twenty  peaks  in  that  small 
section  of  southwestern  Col- 
orado that  are  over  13,000 
feet  high,  and  the  waters  of  the 
world  seem  to  spring  from 
these  snowy  beds  in  midair 
and  come  tumbling  down  the 
rugged  stairways  of  the  moun- 
tainsides. 

Alamosa  had  been  the  ter- 
minus of  the  Denver  and  Rio 
Grande  Railway,  but  the  iron 
bands  now  reached  seventy- 
five  miles  beyond  to  Garland, 
and  the  line  was  about  to  be 
put  into  operation.  The  rail- 
road company  erected  ma- 
chine   shops    and    other   im 

provements  and  business  was 
16 


A  San  Juan  trail 


242         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


prosperous,  and  for  that  winter  at  least,  Alamosa  was  the  city 
of  southwestern  Colorado. 

Next  morning  we  boarded  one  of  those  little  palace  day- 
coaches  of  the  Rio  Grande  road  at  Alamosa,  to  journey  north 
and  west  again  to  Leadville,  and  with  a  good  comfortable  fire 
crackling  cheerily  in  one  end  of  the  car  we  settled  down  in  the 

richly  cushioned  seats  for 
the  day.  The  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande  Company  de- 
clared it  possible  for  a 
narrow  gauge  to  run 
wheresoever  the  human 
mind  willed.  The  curi- 
ous windings  of  this  road 
around  Veta  Pass  should 
be  seen  by  every  tourist. 
He  should  take  a  position 
on  the  rear  platform  of 
the  car  in  making  the  trip 
from  Alamosa  to  the  lit- 
tle town  of  Veta,  the  last 
stop  before  reaching  the 
famous  muleshoe.  One  is 
filled  with  admiration  for 
the  master  brain  that 
leads  such  work  of  art  and 
science  to  perfect  com- 
pletion. At  times  the 
engine  and  rear  car  stood 
almost  side  by  side,  the 
wheels  creaked  and  groan- 
ed as  the  curves  were  safely  rounded,  and  the  long  steep  ascent 
began.  Zigzag,  around  and  across,  and  before  you  can  cease  to 
wonder  at  the  mighty  task,  you  can  look  almost  straight  down 
500  feet  to  the  track  you  have  just  left.  Suddenly  another  turn 
is  quickly  made,  and  on  and  up  goes  the  brave  Httle  iron  horse 
2369  feet  in  fourteen  miles.  At  the  last  abrupt  turn  or  second 
muleshoe  the  road  doubles  on  itself  for  two  or  three  miles,  and  a 
well-beaten  trail  plainly  indicated  where  many  had  jumped  from 
the  train  and  crossed  over  the  mountain  on  foot  to  catch  the 


The  Royal  Gorge 


Veta  Pass  and  the  Royal  Gorge  243 

cars  again  on  the  other  side.  The  trains  run  around  the  pass 
very  slowly,  and  that  morning  almost  as  quickly  as  our  eyes  dis- 
covered the  trail  our  feet  were  upon  it  too.  We  strolled  leisurely 
along  and  gathered  our  arms  full  of  wild  cypress,  daisies,  and 
blue-bells,  and  by  a  short  cut  reached  the  track  half  a  mile  below 
just  in  time  to  see  our  train  swing  around  the  curve  two  miles 
above,  and  at  times  it  did  seem  as  if  the  cars  would  jump  right 
over  the  engine.  The  great  black  horse  came  down  to  us 
grunting  and  panting  with  self  pride  as  if  expecting  a  compli- 
mentary caress. 

At  Pueblo,  130  miles  northeast  of  Alamosa,  we  had  dinner, 
and  changed  cars  for  the  Leadville  division  of  the  Rio  Grande 
running  through  Canyon  City,  and  within  a  few  miles  entered 
the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Arkansas.  The  canyon  proper 
extends  to  the  station  called  South  Arkansas,  sixty-three  miles 
from  the  entrance  near  Canyon  City.  The  hills  were  low  at  first, 
but  gradually  became  rugged  and  wild  until  the  mighty  grand- 
eur was  appalling.  Thousands  of  feet,  almost  perpendicular, 
the  massive  walls  of  stone  formed  the  Royal  Gorge  and  the 
walls  grew  nearer  together  until  the  road-bed  was  no  longer 
resting  on  rocky  buttresses,  but  on  a  suspension  bridge  swung 
out  over  the  waters  for  the  track  to  rest  upon  through  the 
narrow  passage. 

The  awful  grandeur  holds  one  entranced,  while  the  insignifi- 
cance of  man  seems  forced  upon  the  mind  by  the  comparison,  and 
the  wonder  is  that  we  are  ever  worthy  of  such  special  care  by  our 
Heavenly  Father.  We  beheld  His  mighty  works  on  every  hand 
in  which  man  is  the  merest  speck.  One  great  beauty  of  this 
canyon  is  the  rich,  deep,  and  varied  coloring  of  the  rocks.  The 
lichen  in  the  crevices  of  the  massive  walls  struggle  for  exist- 
ence. The  rose-tinted  vines,  and  now  and  then  a  scrubby  pine 
of  rich  green,  form  the  whole  scene  into  one  vast  panorama 
of  beauty  of  which  artists  can  give  but  a  meagre  expression. 

We  reached  South  Arkansas  at  half  past  six — in  good  time 
for  supper.  We  had  made  the  grand  round  from  this  point  and 
consumed  many  weeks  on  the  trip.  Many  passengers  left  the 
train  here  for  Poncha  Springs,  or  to  try  their  fortunes  in  the 
famous  Gunnison.  This  South  Arkansas  station  had  been  our 
place  of  starting  into  the  Gunnison  country,  in  the  late  summer 
days,  and  now  we  were  safely  back  again.     Swinging  around  the 


244         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

circle  of  mountain  roads  by  stage  and  riding  on  the  second  high- 
est railroad  in  the  land,  we  had  come  to  the  welding  of  the 
circle,  then  after  another  brief  stop  we  tossed  back  our  good- night 
in  a  snowball  from  Colorado's  miracle  town  of  Leadville. 


CHAPTER  XXII 


BUENA  VISTA  AND   LEADVILLE 


in  the  mountain  valleys. 


^HE  only  place  of  importance  be- 
tween South  Arkansas  and  Lead- 
ville  was  Buena  Vista,  which  was 
so  long  the  terminus  of  the  South 
Park  and  Rio  Grande  railways. 
The  town  was  at  the  junction  of 
the  Arkansas  River  and  Cotton- 
wood Creek,  in  a  very  pretty  valley, 
surrounded  by  frowning  mountains, 
dotted  with  tall  cottonwood  trees 
that  afforded  a  shade  seldom  found 
The  principal  attraction,  outside  of 
business  advantages,  was  the  Cottonwood  hot  springs,  six  miles 
west  of  the  town.  The  water  of  these  springs  had  proven  an 
excellent  specific  for  blood  poisoning. 

Buena  Vista  had  its  newspapers,  its  board  of  trade,  and  its 
banks,  and  was,  in  fact,  a  wide-awake,  stirring  little  town.  The 
South  Park  and  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad  companies  had 
a  bitter  rivalry  in  their  efforts  to  reach  Leadville,  but  a  compro- 
mise was  finally  made  and  a  common  track  was  used  from  Buena 
Vista  to  the  city  of  gold  and  silver.  A.  G.  Smith,  heretofore 
mentioned,  had  been  promoted  from  Alkali  Station  in  Nebraska 
to  the  joint  ticket  agency  here  for  the  two  roads. 

Our  party  was  delayed  in  Buena  Vista  by  lost  baggage  and 
Pard  returned  to  Pueblo,  where  he  found  the  trunks  all  properly 
checked,  but  stored  away  in  the  baggage-room.  The  conver- 
sation between  himself  and  the  baggageman  has  never  been  made 
public. 

While  Pard  was  on  the  baggage  hunt  the  rest  of  our  party 
were  domiciled  with  Mr.  Smith's  mother.  She  was  a  dear  old 
soul  and  has  been  kind  as  a  mother  to  me  since  I  first  met  her 
in  Omaha  in  1879.     She  was  then  making  her  first  trip  West  to 

245 


246         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


her  boy,  who  was  station  agent  in  that  little  God-forsaken  station 
of  Alkali  in  Nebraska.  The  station  is  now  called  Antelope  and 
has  acquired  some  little  excuse  to  live ;  but  Alkali  then  was  all  its 
name  implied,  with  the  section  house,  depot  with  a  few  living- 
rooms  attached,  and  sage-brush  full  of  tree  rattlesnakes  that 
coiled  in  shiny  gray  rings,  in  glistening  harmony  with  the  sheer 
white  of  the  poison  earth  and  pearl  gray  sage  trees,  and  that  was 
all  there  was  to  Alkali. 

Fresh  from  a  good  home  in  Pittsburg  to  such  desolation 

would  destroy  the 
heart  and  life  of 
almost  any  woman 
but  a  mother  or  a 
bride.  She  has 
earned  her  dear 
little  vine-covered 
cottage  in  southern 
California  and  as 
she  nearsher  ninety 
years  she  is  full  of 
activity,  wit,  and 
humor,  and  with 
the  same  expansive 
love  and  generosity 
for  her  associates 
that  was  so  promi- 
nent in  her  younger 
days. 

The  ride   from 

Buena  Vista  to  Leadville,  where  the  rails  were  being  rapidly 
pushed  on  to  the  land  of  promise,  was  one  to  be  remembered. 
The  stage  was  loaded  to  the  limit  with  all  kinds  of  humanity; 
some  seemed  to  be  fairly  clinging  on  by  their  eyebrows  and 
there  was  much  scuffling  on  the  outside,  even  fighting  for 
something  to  cling  to,  that  they  might  be  speeded  on  to  the  goal. 
The  famous  camp  of  Leadville  had  already  become  a  city  of 
30,000  people,  though  it  was  not  yet  two  years  old.  The  old 
deserted  camp  of  Oro,  with  its  sudden  bursting  into  the  lime-light 
with  10,000  people  in  1865,  was  all  there  was  on  the  map  to 
guide  one  to  the  location  of  the  great  new  gold  field.     Such  an 


To  Leadville  in  its  early  days 


Buena  Vista  and  Leadville 


247 


inflation  into  the  realm  of  citydom  was  worthy  of  being  called 
the  eighth  wonder  of  the  world. 

We  went  trundling  into  this  metropolis  on  the  top  of  a  dingy 
stage-coach,  dusty,  begrimed,  and  weary,  but  were  soon  lost  in 
the  most  conglomerate  host  of  people  that  had  ever  assembled  on 
American  soil.  We  were  glad  to  get  through  alive  and  without 
accident  to  the  Clarendon  Hotel. 

Old  California  Gulch  or  Oro,  with  its  bits  of  shining  gold 
sluiced  from  the  pans,  was  not  thought  of  in  the  same  breath  with 


Chestnut  Street,  Leadville,  in  boom  times 

this  bustling  younger  sister  town.  Leadville  was  the  magic 
word  that  drew  thousands  of  people  into  the  vortex  of  dissipa- 
tion, vice,  and  plunder,  and  the  few  who  would  be  honest  had  a 
struggle  never  dreamed  of.  The  fabulous  wealth  of  its  hills  was 
irresistible  to  those  who  were  not  immune  to  the  chase  of  fortune 
in  its  sparkling  vaults,  and  many  other  camps  were  entirely  de- 
serted and  moved  bodily  to  this  great  throbbing  centre  of  gold 
seekers. 

We  were  drawn  into  the  maelstrom  of  humanity  just  to  see 
what  it  was  like  and  to  visit  some  of  the  best  mines.  There  was 
no  need  of  Pard's  services  in  writing  up  that  section,  which  was 
already  so  widely  known  to  the  whole  world,  and  railroads  were 
pushing  to  the  goal  with  all  possible  speed.  But  he  did  send  some 
long  descriptive  letters  to  the  New  York  World  upon  request. 


248         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  early  part  of  the  day,  when  the  debauchees  were  sleep- 
ing and  the  miners  were  at  work,  one  could  get  about  the  streets 
very  comfortably  and  with  a  degree  of  safety  as  well,  but  the 
early  afternoon  brought  out  the  musicians  again,  with  harps, 
dulcimers,  comets,  bugles,  accordions,  concertinas,  sounding 
boards,  brass  bands,  hurdy-gurdy  and  rattling  bones,  to  say 
nothing  of  the  gentler  mandolin,  violin,  and  other  more  alluring 
soft-stringed  instruments,  whose  discords  or  melodies  filled  the 
air.  Then  the  sleeping  populace  awoke  to  a  renewed  carnival  of 
vice  and  folly.  The  miner's  day  came  to  an  end  and  he  joined 
in  the  avalanche  of  humanity  swarming  the  streets.  At  night 
the  highways  were  illuminated  to  the  glare  of  day,  business  houses 
were  ablaze  with  light,  and  barrooms  were  never  closed.  Mil- 
lionaire and  beggar,  vagabond  and  priest,  good  and  bad,  saint 
and  sinner,  nudged  one  another's  elbows  in  the  swaying  crowd 
and  fought  their  way  through  with  gentleness  or  strength, 
according  to  the  bully  that  was  in  them. 

The  wealth  poured  in  from  the  hills  was  poured  out  again 
upon  the  populace  and  every  enterprise  prospered  for  a  time, 
from  the  bootblack  and  scrubwoman  up  through  the  category  of 
vocations  both  good  and  bad. 

It  was  from  this  pot  pouri  that  H.  A.  W.  Tabor  came  forth 
into  the  world  of  affairs.  His  long,  swarthy  hair,  flowing  black 
mustache,  and  beady  eyes,  his  broad  slouch  hat  and  loose  hang- 
ing clothes,  and  a  mouth  full  of  tobacco  and  bad  English  made 
him  a  figure  upon  the  streets  of  Leadville  and  Denver  never  to 
be  effaced.  Mr.  Tabor  was  but  a  small  merchant  when  Lead- 
ville opened  up  to  commerce,  and  for  $17.50  he  outfitted  some 
prospectors  for  a  third  of  what  they  should  find;  it  took  but  a 
few  days  for  them  to  open  the  great  ore  vein  on  Fryer  Hill  and 
Tabor  burst  from  a  wingless  worm  to  a  flying  centaur  almost  in 
the  wink  of  an  eye. 

Under  his  flowing  locks  lurked  egotism  and  vanity  as  hand- 
maids of  his  ignorance,  yet  it  was  said  his  flattering  intrigues, 
backed  by  his  shining  gold,  bartered  and  tricked  his  way  into 
the  gubernatorial  chair  and  the  United  States  Senate  and  made 
Colorado  the  laughing  stock  of  our  whole  realm.  From  the 
Nation's  Capitol  he  flaunted  his  $500  silk  nightshirts,  while  in 
Colorado  his  scandalous  divorce  proceedings  excited  the  ire  of 
respectability.     The  wife  who  had  shared  his  poverty  and  been 


Buena  Vista  and  Leadville 


249 


his  helpmeet  in  adversity  was  not  the  one  with  whom  he  wanted 
to  share  his  fleeting  riches,  and  the  Colorado  courts  gave  him 
his  way. 

But  he  did  some  things  to  redeem  himself  in  the  public  eye 
in  the  building  of  the  Tabor  Block,  the  Tabor  Grand  Opera 
House,  and  the  Windsor  Hotel  in  days  when  Denver  needed  such 
institutions  exceedingly. 

Many  stories  were  told  on  Mr.  Tabor  and  one  of  the  best 
ones  occurred  on  a  railroad  train  en  route  east  from  Denver. 
Several   card  sharks  had    been    trying    for    several   hours   to 


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"  Then  the  sleeping  populace  awoke  to  a  renewed  carnival  of  vice  and  folly  " 

engage  him  in  a  game  of  poker,  and  suspecting  a  snare  he  would 
only  play  "seven  up."  At  last  one  of  the  parcy  exclaimed  how 
much  he  wished  he  was  playing  poker  with  the  hand  just  dealt. 
"Well,"  said  Mr.  Tabor,  "if  you  will  give  me  that  queen  on  the 
table  we  will  make  a  jackpot  of  this  deal."  The  burly  Jew  who 
had  proposed  the  change  was  more  than  delighted,  and  round 
and  round  went  the  betting  until  every  one  in  the  car  grew  ex- 
cited and  watched  the  jackpot  grow,  and  when  at  last  the  call 
was  made  the  excited  Jew  threw  down  his  four  kings  and  reached 
for  the  pile  of  gold.  Then  Mr.  Tabor  cried,  "Hold  on,  don't  be 
so  stue  my  friend,  that  gold  is  mine,"  and  he  laid  down  four  aces. 
The  Jew  was  dumbfounded,  as  he  had  staked  his  all  on  the  sup- 


250         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

position  that  Mr.  Tabor  held  the  four  queens,  and  in  an  agonized 
voice  cried  out,  "But  mein  Gott  in  Himmel,  Mr.  Tabor,  vat  has 
de  kveen  to  do  mit  four  azes?" 

Mr.  Tabor's  life  of  wealth  was  like  a  whirlwind  that  spent 
itself  in  haste,  leaving  him  penniless  as  before  the  Leadville  boom, 
and  though  he  could  have  written  millions  where  the  Puget 
Sound  man  wrote  his  thousands,  yet  he  kissed  his  last  coin  as 
the  other  man  did  his  twenty-dollar  bill  that  was  received  a 
short  time  ago  at  the  Dexter  Horton  Bank  in  Seattle,  and  across 
the  face  of  which  was  written:  "This  is  the  end  of  a  Klondyke 
find  which  netted  one  hundred  thousand  dollars ;  good-bye  old 
bill,  and  tell  the  next  fellow  who  gets  you  to  beware  of  wine  and 
women."  That  Mr.  Tabor  died  without  money  and  with  but  few 
friends  is  but  the  fate  of  thousands  whose  cyclonic  lives  shoot 
up  like  a  rocket  and  are  lost  forever  in  the  maelstrom  of 
dissipation  and  excesses. 

We  sat  in  the  hotel  window  and  watched  the  masses  of  hu- 
manity moving  along  the  streets.  It  was  like  a  rolling  sea  of 
heads  moving  like  a  huge  serpent  along  the  great  thorough- 
fares. Some  were  singing,  some  cursing,  and  some  with  stern, 
set  faces,  as  if  they  had  thrown  their  last  dice  and  lost.  Its 
gay  debaucheries  were  from  sun  to  sun,  but  from  the  setting  to 
the  rising,  using  the  whole  night,  which  was  all  too  short  for 
their  loud  revelries. 

We  were  glad  to  slip  into  a  carriage  for  a  drive  to  Mt.  Massive 
Soda  Springs.  The  boulevard  drive  was  a  happy  surprise  and  a 
great  credit  to  the  highest  town  in  the  world.  The  hotel  at  the 
springs  was  kept  by  a  man  who  was  his  own  housekeeper,  and  no 
woman  could  have  found  fault  with  the  immaculate  condition 
from  his  kitchen  to  his  roof. 

Desiring  to  return  to  Denver  on  the  South  Park  route  we 
had  to  first  stage  it  for  forty  miles,  via  Mosquito  Pass,  then  we 
boarded  a  beautiful  new  chair  car,  that  was  a  delight  to  every  one. 
The  hospitable  managers  of  the  Clarendon  Hotel  had  tendered 
us  a  fine  basket  lunch  when  we  left  them  in  the  early  morning, 
and  once  in  the  bright  new  car  we  lost  no  time  in  spreading  out 
the  delicacies.  Everything  was  so  agreeable  in  glistening  new- 
ness about  us  that  it  gave  an  additional  zest  to  our  appetites. 
Among  other  things  we  had  a  can  of  chicken,  which,  with  many 
flourishes  of  a  great  chef,  Pard  proceeded  to  open.     But  alack! 


Buena  Vista  and  Leadville 


251 


and  alas!  as  soon  as  the  blade  penetrated  the  tin  the  chicken  did 
the  rest,  and  it  flew  all  over  that  fine  new  car.  Fortunately 
there  were  but  few  passengers  aside  from  our  own  party,  but  it 
was  difficult  work  to  rid  ourselves  and  the  car  of  that  terrible 
baptism. 

Pard  implored  me  to  find  a  bottle  of  cologne  for  the  other 
passengers  while  the  good  work  went  on.  An  old  German,  who 
was  immensely  agitated  with  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  catas- 
trophe, went  out  on  the  platform  where  he  could  give  way  to  his 


Copyright  by  Detroit  Pholu  Lu. 

Pack  train  loaded  for  the  mines 


loud  ha  ha's  as  he  rocked  his  body  to  and  fro  with  laughter. 
Surely  no  one  had  an  appetite  for  lunch  that  day,  and  everything 
was  dumped  out  of  the  window,  while  Pard,  to  this  day,  will 
squirm  at  the  mention  of  canned  meats. 

When  in  Leadville  again  some  months  later  the  mushroom 
growth  was  rapidly  falling  away.  The  large  class  of  villains 
and  bulldozers  who  flock  to  new  camps  were  leaving  for  pastures 
new,  and  their  places  were  filled  with  solid  business  men  and 
capitalists  who  worked  a  radical  change  in  business  methods 
and  society.  The  hasty  rude  cabins  and  business  stands  were 
being  replaced  by  solid  stone  or  brick  business  blocks,  and  the 


252         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

steady  strides  of  real  prosperity  were  visible  in  every  direction. 
The  pleasant  homes  indicated  not  decline,  but  a  permanent  and 
successful  mercantile  and  mining  centre. 

The  endless  mineral  wealth  towered  mountain  high  around 
the  town.  The  nature  of  the  mines  differed  largely  from  the 
Gunnison  and  San  Juan,  inasmuch  as  the  latter  were  all  fissure 
veins,  while  around  Leadville  the  ore  deposits  were  an  immense 
flat  bed  of  carbonates  resembling  the  deep  black  or  dark  soil 
as  seen  so  common  in  the  Eastern  States.  These  beds  are  some- 
times a  dozen  miles  long,  and  have  been  found  over  a  hundred 
miles  long  and  three  or  four  miles  wide,  and  often  fifteen  or  more 
feet  deep.  The  ore  is  covered  with  a  stratum  of  porphyry  rock, 
or  iron  and  sand  in  thickness  varying  from  thirty  to  one  hundred 
and  thirty  feet.  This  covering  is  either  stripped  off  or  the  ore 
tumbled  out,  and  almost  every  ton  of  the  dark  soil  taken  out 
yields  richly  in  silver  and  lead. 

There  was  no  reason  why  Leadville  should  be  chronicled  as 
an  unhealthy  city.  The  native  purity  of  the  atmosphere  was 
unexcelled;  to  be  sure  its  altitude  was  high  (10,200  feet),  and 
no  person  with  pulmonary  troubles  should  attempt  to  live  there 
or  in  an  altitude  of  over  6000  or  8000  feet  at  the  highest,  and 
then  the  patient  should  keep  almost  absolutely  quiet  until  he  is 
fully  acclimated;  nor  should  any  one  go  suddenly  from  a  low  to  a 
high  altitude  without  putting  on  a  full  quota  of  winter  clothing 
to  guard  against  the  evils  of  a  sudden  change.  Owing  to  the 
sheltered  position  of  the  town,  even  midwinter  affords  less 
bleak  and  extreme  cold  days  than  Denver  and  many  towns  of 
the  plains. 

Six  brass  bands  supplied  the  citizens  with  music  and  made  the 
very  hills  resound  with  general  good  feeling.  Leadville  had 
reason  to  be  proud  of  its  military  companies,  its  fire  department, 
and  its  secret  organizations,  and  they  gave  ostentatious  displays 
nightly  by  marching  behind  bands  of  music. 

Two  years  before  Leadville  was  incorporated  as  a  town 
of  less  than  three  hundred  people.  In  September,  1880,  it  was 
the  marvel  of  the  generation  with  a  population  of  30,000.  The 
total  production  of  the  Leadville  mines  for  July,  1880,  was 
$1,041,185.15;  for  August,  $1,480,000. 

In  this  young  and  giant-like  city  one  saw  a  great  deal  of 
human   nature,   but  there  were  too  many  crude  democratic 


Buena  Vista  and  Leadville  253 

natures  there,  girdled  with  bullets  and  "heeled"  to  "pop  his 
man,"  but  even  they  were  learning  that  Leadville  could  do  better 
without  them  and  that  they  must  disappear. 

The  sidewalks  were  still  crowded  with  a  surging  mass  of 
people  and  the  highway  was  full  of  carriages  and  conveyances  of 
every  kind,  but  law  and  order  had  won  a  coveted  victory  in  a 
few  months  that  was  daily  lessening  the  calendars  of  crime,  and 
Leadville,  the  boom  town,  was  already  mellowing  into  a  Lead- 
ville of  justice  and  dignity. 

Throughout  the  whole  of  otir  Inland  Empire  west  of  the 
Missouri,  when  our  pioneering  days  began  it  seemed  to  me  that 
a  large  proportion  of  the  men  were  known  by  some  name  other 
than  their  own.  The  names  were  usually  given  because  of  some 
peculiarity  of  the  individual  or  from  some  wanton  or  heroic  act, 
or  some  unusual  habit.  The  class  of  men  bearing  the  sobriquet 
were  generally  those  in  the  mining  camps,  on  the  cattle  ranges, 
and  along  the  stage  lines,  and  many  of  the  names  are  still  heard, 
such  as  "Wildgoose  Bill,"  "Terbacker  George,"  "Shoestring 
Jim,"  "Brown  Gravy  Sam,"  "Buckskin  Tom,"  "Rattlesnake 
Pete,"  "Snaggletooth  Brown,"  "Yellowdog  Smith,"  "Buckeno 
Tom,"  "Kittle  Belly  Kelly,"  "Morphine  Charley,"  "Nosey 
Taylor,"  "Siwash  Sandy,"  and  "Mission  Jim."  "Solo  Bill" 
achieved  local  fame  at  Mountain  Home,  Idaho,  by  planting  his 
potatoes  on  horseback,  while  "Fat  Jack"  was  a  Butte  stage 
driver  who  was  so  thin  he  could  hide  behind  his  whip.  These 
names  are  but  a  few  of  the  simplest  ones  that  clung  to  the 
coterie  of  the  advance  agents  of  our  civilization  and  which  they 
are  never  able  to  shake  off  unless  they  go  again  to  lands  where 
they  are  not  known  and  begin  life  anew. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


EARLY   DAYS   IN   YELLOWSTONE 


U:^^' 


N  the  fall  of  1 880 
we  made  our 
first  trip  into 
Yellowstone 
Park,  that 
land  without  a 
peer  in  the 
known  world. 
With  all  the 
grandeur  and 
marvellous 
wonders   of 

Colorado  fresh  in  our  minds,  we  found  the  great  Yellowstone  land 
a  fitting  climax  for  the  majestic  and  glorious  works  of  our  Creator. 
The  Utah  and  Northern  Railroad  had  now  reached  Red  Rock 
on  the  southern  border  of  Montana,  whence  a  rough  stage  ride  of 
about  one  hundred  miles  took  us  to  Virginia  City,  the  real 
starting-point  for  the  park  and  where  arrangements  were  soon 
completed  for  entering  the  great  geyserland. 

The  dear  ones  at  home  were  in  constant  fear  of  our  falling 
into  the  hands  of  Indians,  or  that  we  would  starve  or  freeze,  or  a 
thousand  other  things  that  can  arise  in  an  anxious  parent's  heart. 
So  before  starting  for  the  park  they  were  told,  on  many  pages, 
about  our  flannels,  our  leggings,  our  felt  boots,  mittens,  scarfs, 
overcoats,  ulsters,  felt  skirts,  knit  jackets,  heavy  woollen  shawl, 
pillows,  blankets,  and  aside  from  wearing  apparel,  told  of  many 
nice  edibles  that  had  been  sent  to  us  by  new-found  friends,  re- 
marking as  I  closed  the  letter :  ''  There  Pard,  when  Mother  reads 
that  letter  there  will  not  be  one  thing  for  her  to  worry  about  this 
time.  She  does  n't  know  anything  about  the  early  storm  season 
here,  and  I  did  not  mention  that!"     But  Pard's  incredulous 

254 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  255 

remark  that  she  would  think  of  something  proved  quite  true, 
for  when  we  received  her  answer,  bless  her  heart,  she  rejoiced 
that  we  were  so  well  provided  for,  and  "It  seemed  as  if  you 
could  live  a  good  while  on  the  provisions  of  your  basket,  but 
after  all  cold  food  was  not  the  proper  kind  for  any  one  living  such 
strenuous  lives." 

The  Marshall  and  Goff  Stage  Company  sent  the  first 
public  conveyance  into  the  park,  120  miles  distant,  and  we 
were  to  be  the  first  passengers.  Many  Virginia  City  citizens 
begged  us  not  to  take  the  trip  so  late  in  the  fall  as  early  snow- 
storms were  too  hazardous  and  too  severe  to  allow  the  trip  to  be 


A  beautiful  herd  of  elk 

made  safely.  The  story  was  several  times  told  of  the  party  of  a 
dozen  or  more  who  had  been  overtaken  a  year  or  two  before,  and 
all  had  perished.  But  the  plans  had  been  carefully  in  progress 
for  some  weeks,  and  with  the  hour  at  hand  for  the  trip  we  could 
not  be  persuaded  to  yield  such  a  privilege;  we  would  take  our 
chances  and  trust  in  God  and  good  horses.  With  the  best  of 
drivers  in  Mr.  Marshall  himself,  and  Pard  and  I  as  the  only  oc- 
cupants of  the  stage,  at  just  daylight  on  the  morning  of  October 
I,  1880,  we  heard  the  wheels  go  round,  and  soon  we  were  whirling 
merrily  along  the  beautiful  Madison  valley. 

We  had  a  sumptuous  breakfast  in  the  tidy  log  cabin  of  Gilman 
Sawtelle,  who  was  a  Yellowstone  Park  guide.  Then  on  to  the 
top  of  Reynolds  Pass  from  which  point  the  "Three  Tetons" 
rose  before  us  in  all  their  grandeur,  their  glistening  pinnacles 


256         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

shone  in  the  dying  sunlight,  while  the  first  snows  covered  their 
rugged  outline,  and  mellowed  the  jagged  rocks  of  three  of  the 
mightiest  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

There  were  numberless  herds  of  antelopes  that  eyed  us  curi- 
ously and  galloped  away ;  the  streams  were  alive  with  mountain 
trout.  Poor  Pard  was  crazy  for  his  rod  and  reel,  and  so,  in  the 
theme  of  Stanton, 

"  He  just  fell  a  wishin' 
He  was  where  the  waters  swish 
For  if  the  Lord  made  fishin' 
Why — a  feller  orter  fish." 

But  soon  the  island  dotted  waters  of  Henry's  Lake  claimed 
all  attention  with  its  deeply  indented  shores,  and  mountain 
guardians  3,000  feet  high.  The  deep  green  of  the  pine  trees  in 
contrast  with  the  autumnal  foliage  lent  a  rare  charm  to  the  five 
miles  of  waterway.  Every  little  depression  leading  to  the  quiet 
lake  carried  its  silvery  rivulet  bordered  with  willows  and  the 
brown  and  yellow  grass  made  a  strong  contrast  to  the  flaming 
sumac.  The  autumn  panorama  was  a  marvel  of  brilliancy  that  any 
lover  of  nature  would  rejoice  to  see.  Here  we  were  at  the  fountain 
head  of  the  great  Snake  River  which  we  later  followed  a  thousand 
miles  south  and  west  to  the  Columbia  and  the  Pacific  Ocean. 

The  stage  drew  up  to  quite  a  pretentious  building  on  the 
lake  shore  about  half  past  eight  in  the  evening.  But  enthusiasm 
weakened  when  a  nearer  view  of  the  house  revealed  no  doors  or 
windows,  but  in  their  places  strips  of  canvas  flapping  over  the 
openings. 

The  ranch  house  belonged  to  the  same  historical  Sawtelle 
who  had  given  us  such  a  good  breakfast,  but  during  the  late 
Indian  troubles  he  had  abandoned  this  house  before  it  was 
finished,  and  had  cached  his  doors  and  windows  for  fear  the  house 
would  be  burned.  He  intended  to  return  there  and  open  a  public 
house  if  travel  increased,  but  it  was  a  most  forbidding  place  at 
that  time.  Not  expecting  company,  the  stockman,  sheep-herder 
and  two  mail  carriers  who  were  camping  in  the  house  were  some- 
what surprised  to  see  a  woman  emerge  from  the  darkness  into 
the  glare  (?)  of  the  candle  light. 

The  house  was  without  furniture  except  a  few  cooking  uten- 
sils, an  old  stove,  a  pine  table,  and  some  crude  stools  to  sit  on. 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone 


257 


Mr.  Marshall  made  himself  busy  trying  to  get  supper  from  sup- 
plies that  had  been  brought  from  his  house  in  the  Lower  Geyser 
Basin.  He  said  he  was  awfully  glad  I  could  eat  beans,  but  it 
was  a  case  of  mustard  or  beans,  and  the  mustard  was  out,  so 
there  was  not  much  choice,  although  instead  of  a  gun  of  Dame 
Corbet  to  compel  me  to  eat  the  unsightly  beans  there  was  a 
mighty  vigorous  hunger  that  made  me  say  the  beans  were  good. 

Pard  and  I  gathered  our  blankets  to  go  back  to  the  stage  to 
fix  a  place  to  sleep,  but  Mr.  Marshall  insisted  there  was  a  nice 
lot  of  hay  upstairs  where  we  could  be  more  comfortable,  and 
handing  us  a  candle,  directed  us  to  the  stairway.  It  was  a  rickety 
passage,  with  the  wind  howling  through  every  aperture  and  hold- 
ing high  carnival  with  every  loose  board  in  the  house.  Once 
upstairs  the  room  to  which  we  were  sent  seemed  about  forty 
feet  square.  The  glim- 
mering candle  would  light 
only  a  corner  of  the  great 
black  space,  and  a  gust  of 
wind  would  blow  out  the 
glim  at  intervals  until  the 
place  seemed  full  of  spooks 
and  goblins. 

Pard  and  I  gazed  at 
each  other  when  we  could, 
and  when  we  could  n't, 
well,  maybe  I  cried  —  I 
don't  quite  remember. 
He  had  persuaded  me  to 
buy  a  very  heavy  pair  of 
shoes  in  Virginia  City,  be- 
cause he  had  been  told 

the  ground  was  so  hot  in  some  sections  of  the  park  that  thin 
soles  were  not  at  all  safe  to  wear,  and  would  soon  be  burned 
through.  Then  he  had  proceeded  to  hold  them  up  to  ridicule 
all  day,  and  I  had  finally  wagered  five  dollars  with  him  that 
in  spite  of  their  looks  I  could  get  both  of  my  feet  into  one 
of  his  shoes,  if  I  was  from  Chicago.  So  there  in  the  dim  candle 
light,  with  any  number  of  sashless  and  paneless  windows,  with 
the  pallet  of  hay  down  in  a  dark  comer,  partly  covered  with 
canvas,  with  the  wind  shrieking  requiems  for  the  dead  and  threats 
17 


The  windowless  house  at  Henry's  Lake 


258         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

for  the  living,  and  with  the  rafters  full  of  bats,  I  called  to  him  to 
bring  me  his  shoe,  and  let  me  win  my  wager. 

I  put  on  his  number  seven  and  declared  my  foot  was  lost  and 
lonesome  in  it,  and  he  cried  out,  "Well,  then,  now  put  in  the 
other  one!  put  in  the  other  one!"  I  began  at  once  taking  it 
off  to  put  it  on  the  other  foot,  when  he  cried  out,  "Oh,  no,  not 
that  way,  but  both  at  once.'"  But  I  revolted  and  said,  "  No,  that 
was  not  in  the  bargain;  I  had  not  agreed  to  put  both  in  at  the 
same  time."  In  deep  chagrin  he  threw  a  five-dollar  goldpiece 
at  me,  which  was  lost  for  half  an  hour  in  the  hay  before  I  could 
find  it,  while  he  gave  a  grunt  or  two  that  will  be  better  not  trans- 
lated. And  so  we  went  on  with  our  merrymaking,  trying  to 
forget  our  surroundings,  and  dispel  thoughts  of  our  discomfort, 
but  it  was  a  glad  hour  that  saw  us  started  again  on  our  way  with 
a  new  sun. 

We  fared  better  for  breakfast  than  we  had  for  supper,  al- 
though it  was  served  on  a  bare  table  with  tin  dishes.  One  of  the 
mail  carriers  came  back  to  the  house  to  tell  me  there  was  not 
another  woman  within  thirty-five  miles  of  Henry's  Lake.  That 
reminded  me  of  Col.  Paul  Vandervoort,  an  earlier  writer  on 
the  marvellous  charms  of  this  section,  who  said  that  "lovely 
woman's  sweet  voice"  had  never  floated  across  the  surface  of 
that  placid  lake,  and  we  wondered  whether  the  charm  for  him 
would  now  be  broken  because  a  woman's  voice  had  floated 
thereon. 

Henry's  Lake  is  a  magnificent  duck-shooting  resort,  and 
with  that  and  Goose  Marsh  so  close  together,  where  the  mal- 
lards, redheads,  teals,  and  canvas-backs  flock  by  the  million, 
there  is  joy  unlimited  for  the  hunter. 

Leaving  Henry's  Lake  our  course  was  almost  due  east  into 
the  park;  part  of  the  drive  was  over  a  natural  boulevard  on  a 
smooth  plateau  dotted  with  pines  and  elevated  about  thirty 
feet  above  the  Madison  River.  At  the  end  of  this  beautiful 
drive  we  reached  the  Riverside  station,  where  one  trail  branched 
through  the  Madison  Canyon,  and  the  other  climbed  over  hill- 
tops to  Lower  Geyser  Basin.  The  stage  company  had  chosen 
the  latter  route,  and  from  the  summit  we  obtained  a  glorious 
view  of  the  valley  and  surrounding  ranges  of  mountains.  It  was 
not  until  darkness  settled  around  us  that  we  reached  the  Lower 
Geyser   Basin,  at  the  entrance  of   which  stood  the  new  and 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  259 

unfinished  little  log  house  built  by  Mr.  Marshall, — the  first 
and  only  semblance  of  a  house  in  the  park.  It  was  with  a 
twinge  of  disappointment  that  we  were  obliged  to  retire  with- 
out seeing  a  geyser,  but  needing  rest  we  were  soon  .ucked  away 
for  the  night  and  locked  in  slumber. 

Next  morning  there  was  an  early  review  of  our  surroundings; 
the  log  house  was  far  from  being  finished,  and  the  part  we  oc- 
cupied was  partitioned  off  with  a  canvas  wagon  cover.  The 
second  floor  was 
only  partly  laid, 

and    a   window 

or  two  was  miss-     '"TT-  -  ~JW^  JF  J^^-JB^^/^^^'  ^^-W^'^!!-^*''^^!" 

ing  in  the  upper   --^^^f$^M- -■--    ' 
part   while    the      cs-f^^-'u^-^- '*/4. 

unfilled     chinks  Lords  of  the  Yellowstone 

between  the  logs 

allowed  the  rigorous  October  breezes  to  fan  us  at  will.    At  that 

time  the  office  and  sitting-room  and  dining-room  were  one,  and  a 

single  stove  did  its  best  toward  heating  the  whole  house.     It 

was  amid  such  cold  discomfort  during  the  season  that  followed 

that  Mrs.  Marshall  gave  birth  to  the  first  white  child  bom  in  the 

park  and  the  parents  urgently  requested  me  by  letter  to  give 

the  child  a  name.     Mr.  Marshall  said  the  first  white  woman  to 

completely  totu:  the  park  should  name  the  first  white  baby  born 

there. 

In  the  frosty  morning  air  the  steam  was  rising  from  every 
point  of  vision  and  the  whole  ground  seemed  to  be  on  fire,  for 
boiling  springs  and  geysers  were  almost  without  number.  The 
first  point  to  visit  was  the  cluster  of  springs  two  miles  from  the 
hotel.  The  road  was  through  fine  meadowland  and  groves,  and 
beside  a  rippling  stream  that  was  fed  only  by  the  overflow  of 
the  springs  in  question. 

The  first  one  reached  was  known  as  the  Thirty  Minute  Gey- 
ser, as  that  is  the  interval  of  time  between  its  eruptions.  It  was 
getting  ready  to  spout  when  we  arrived  and  gurgled  and  groaned 
and  spouted  a  little;  then  after  dying  away  to  regather  its  force, 
it  dashed  up  in  the  air  some  twenty  feet  and  sustained  its  height 
for  three  minutes.  There  were  other  springs  only  a  few  feet 
away  that  constantly  boiled  but  did  not  spout.  A  quarter  of  a 
mile  from  this  cluster  the  Queen  Laundry  Geyser  covered  an 


26o         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

area  of  at  least  an  acre  and  a  half.  The  main  basin  of  the  Laun- 
dry was  not  over  fifty  feet  across,  but  it  flowed  down  in  a  series 
of  pools  nearly  half  a  mile  from  its  source  and  there  became  cool 
enough  to  bathe  in,  and  to  do  laundry  work,  for  which  its  waters 
were  especially  adapted.  Around  the  boiling  basin  were  various 
formations  of  a  brittle  nature  from  a  pure  white  to  a  dark  crim- 
son, giving  the  whole  rim  a  brilliant  rainbow  brightness. 

The  boiling  pots  close  by  had  overflowed  until  they  built 
around  themselves  huge  walls  some  thirty  feet  high.  The  centre 
of  the  mound  had  an  opening  thirty  feet  in  diameter  and  as 
round  as  a  ring,  with  the  water  boiling  and  seething  from  a  bot- 
tomless pit  amid  walls  of  fire.  Nearly  all  the  geysers  and  boil- 
ing springs  in  the  park  have  funnel-shaped  pyramidal  craters  or 
apertures,  with  curiously  formed  linings  of  their  own  deposits, 
while  the  waters  are  a  dark  blue  and  green,  so  clear  that  the  walls 
and  shelving  sides  could  be  seen  as  clearly  at  a  depth  of  forty  feet 
as  near  the  surface. 

These  springs  filled  us  with  astonishment  and  we  were  in- 
clined to  be  angry  when  told  that  we  must  not  loiter  for  they  were 
scarcely  worth  the  trouble  to  see  when  so  much  grander  ones  were 
but  a  few  miles  away.  Near  one  of  the  small  laundry  geysers  sat 
a  workman  who  had  been  haying  in  a  meadow  close  by,  and  whose 
facial  expression  betokened  deep  trouble.  After  some  question- 
ing he  said  the  boys  told  him  that  if  he  put  his  woollen  shirt  in  the 
geyser  when  it  was  getting  ready  to  spout  that  the  cleansing 
waters  would  wash  it  perfectly  clean  while  it  whipped  it  in  the 
air.  He  had  followed  their  advice  and  twisting  a  piece  of  flannel 
about  three  inches  square  in  his  fingers,  he  said  that  was  all  he 
could  find  of  his  shirt  when  the  waters  got  quiet,  and  he  said  he 

guessed  it  had  gone  down  to  H to  be  ironed,  and  he  marched 

off  declaring  he  would  "lick  them  fellers"  if  they  would  not  buy 
him  a  new  shirt. 

Leaving  the  Lower  Basin  by  way  of  Prospect  Point,  on  which 
some  government  buildings  were  to  be  located,  we  followed  up 
the  east  bank  of  the  west  fork  of  the  Firehole  River  with  geysers 
all  along  until  we  reached  the  big  springs  or  geyser  lakes,  where 
we  crossed  the  river  and  drove  up  to  a  level  with  the  water. 

There  were  two  large  springs  and  one  smaller.  The  first 
was  on  the  river  bank  down  almost  at  a  level  with  the  river.  The 
boiling  cauldron  seemed  to  have  cropped  out  of  the  earth  from 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone 


261 


under  the  beautifully  scalloped  edges  of  dark  overhanging  walls; 
an  obnoxious  odor  of  sulphur  filled  the  air  and  made  the  cold 
chills  chase  each  other  up  and  down  my  spine.  The  place  was 
rightly  named  "Hell's  Half  Acre."  As  I  looked  into  the  black 
depths,  when  the  breeze  blew  the  fumes  from  us,  the  groaning  of 
the  waters  was  heard  like  evil  spirits  in  dispute.  It  lacked  only 
the  fabulous  Pluto  with  his  mythical  boat  to  row  us  to  the  en- 
trance of  Hades,  and  our  illusion  would  have  been  complete. 


Excelsior  Geyser 

The  surface  of  the  "Half  Acre"  measured  two  hundred  and  fifty 
feet  in  diameter,  and  on  the  side  farthest  from  the  river  the  de- 
posits of  the  waters  spread  out  over  the  boiling  cauldron  like  a 
thin  shelf  for  thirty  feet  and  it  looked  as  if  the  weight  of  a  man 
might  break  it.  Should  it  ever  give  way  under  his  tread  no 
human  power  could  save  the  victim  from  a  terrible  death. 

Forming  a  hundred  good  resolutions  for  the  rest  of  our  lives, 
we  turned  to  the  sister  spring  about  half  as  large  and  circular  in 
shape,  only  a  few  rods  from  the  great  spring.  This  is  also  a  boil- 
ing chasm,  but  the  waters  are  even  with  the  siurounding  mound 


262         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

of  its  deposit.  For  a  long  distance  down  the  sloping  sides  were 
the  rich  deep  colorings  so  common  around  all  the  springs,  while 
the  waters  were  so  clear  as  to  expose  the  mosslike  incrustations 
that  line  the  mystic  sides  to  a  fabulous  depth.  Around  the  edges 
we  found  petrified  grasshoppers  in  abundance,  also  feathers  in  all 
stages  of  petrifaction.  Formations  of  a  peculiar  sediment  were 
in  all  shapes,  such  as  little  boats,  boots,  embroidered  cushions, 
and  other  curious  things;  but  when  dried  they  lost  their  beauty 
and  became  too  frail  to  handle.  The  larger  spring  had  no  period 
of  eruption  and  it  was  not  seen  in  its  greatest  glory  until  1886 
when  visitors  to  the  park  who  happened  to  be  in  the  vicinity  wit- 
nessed a  rare  spectacle,  and  it  was  named  the  Excelsior  Geyser, 
because  it  is  undoubtedly  the  most  powerful  geyser  in  the  world. 
It  suddenly  broke  out  about  three  o'clock  one  Friday  afternoon 
and  continued  to  play  for  over  twenty-four  hours.  The  wit- 
nesses pronounce  it  the  grandest  and  most  awe-inspiring  dis- 
play ever  beheld.  The  spou tings  were  heard  several  miles 
distant,  while  the  earth  in  the  immediate  vicinity  was  violently 
shaken  as  if  by  an  earthquake.  The  noise  of  escaping  steam, 
and  the  internal  rumbling  were  deafening.  An  immense  body  of 
water,  accompanied  by  steam,  was  projected  to  an  altitude  of 
about  three  hundred  feet,  and  the  Firehole  River,  which  is  only 
a  few  rods  distant,  soon  became  a  torrent  of  boiling  water. 
The  display  was  kept  up,  with  gradually  decreasing  force,  until 
the  Excelsior  went  back  to  its  normal  state. 

Between  these  two  boiling  lakes  and  a  little  farther  back 
from  the  river  there  was  a  spring  twenty-five  feet  in  diameter, 
whose  funnel-shaped  basin  was  highly  colored  and  marvellously 
beautiful,  but  its  waters  very  cold.  It  was  the  only  cold  spring 
of  the  geyser  class  that  we  found  in  the  park,  but  it  was  very  dis- 
agreeable to  the  taste.  All  around  these  springs  could  be  seen 
what  were  once  large  pine  trees  that  had  been  gradually  buried 
in  this  deposit  of  liquid  silver,  until  only  the  tops  were  seen 
above  the  slowly  growing  mound. 

Above  the  "Half  Acre"  we  crossed  back  to  the  east  side  of 
the  river,  and  found  a  spring  boiling  up  through  an  old  hollow 
stump.  It  stood  close  to  the  river,  so  that  the  waters  washed  it 
slightly  on  one  side.  The  stump  was  three  feet  high,  and  the  waters 
boiled  constantly  two  feet  above  the  top  of  it,  directly  through 
the  heart  of  the  stump,  which  was  gradually  becoming  petrified. 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone 


263 


Without  waiting  to 
examine  the  hundred  or 
more  geysers  on  our  way, 
we  continued  up  the 
river  to  the  Riverside  and 
Fan  geysers,  where  we 
again  forded  the  stream 
and  continued  on  until 
we  reached  the  Castle 
Geyser,  where  we  pitched 
our  camp. 

The  Castle  seemed  to 
be  making  a  terrible  fuss 
about  something.  Its  cra- 
ter looked  more  like  a 
lighthouse  than  the  ruins 
of  a  castle ;  it  was  indeed 
beautiful  and  majestic, 
rising  some  forty  feet  from 
the  surrounding  level,  al- 
though the  principal  dome 
was  only  twenty  feet  above 
its  own  pedestal.  The 
outside  of  this  chimney 
resembled  the  surface  of 
a  cauliflower  in  its  forma- 
tion, only  that  each  little 
bud  or  blossom  was  round 
and  smooth  like  a  pearl, 
and  the  whole  was  a  clear, 
grayish  white.  It  had 
quieted  for  a  moment 
when  we  reached  it,  so 
assuming  a  courage  we 
did  not  feel,  we  went 
close  to  it,  and  were  meas- 
uring the  distance  and 
possibility  of  a  climb  to 
the  top,  when  suddenly, 
with  an  angry  growl,  like 


Courtesy  Northern  Pacijtc  Railway  Co. 

"  The  river  of  water  tore  its  way  up  through 

the  bowels  of  the  earth  and  dashed  high 

in  the  air" 


264         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

a  cage  of  enraged  lions,  the  river  of  water  tore  its  way  up 
through  the  bowels  of  the  earth  and  dashed  high  in  the  air. 
I  could  not  begin  to  guess  the  height,  for,  with  a  wild 
screara,  we  ran  for  life,  much  to  the  amusement  of  the  rest 
of  the  party  who  were  just  approaching.  We  happened  to  be 
)n  the  side  from  which  the  wind  was  blowing,  and  ultimately  re- 
gained our  position  on  the  top  to  our  great  joy  and  advantage. 
The  eruption  continued  for  fully  an  hour;  the  column  of  water 
would  shoot  up  from  eighty  to  a  hundred  feet,  and  send  sheets 
of  steam  far  beyond  that.  The  sunlight  deflection  brought  out 
the  most  brilliant  rainbows.  The  chimney  wall  was  two  feet 
in  thickness  at  the  top,  and  the  orifice  through  which  the  boiling 
water  was  forced  was  two  and  a  half  by  five  feet  in  diameter.  We 
afterwards  heard  the  roaring  and  rumbling  of  this  geyser  fully 
a  mile  distant. 

A  few  yards  above  the  Castle  was  Old  Faithful,  so  called 
because  of  its  perfect  regularity  in  spouting,  for  every  hour  it 
throws  the  spectator  into  ecstasies  of  delight.  It  is  so  regular 
in  time  of  spouting  that  it  has  often  been  called  the  "Big  Ben" 
of  the  park,  after  the  famous  old  Westminster  clock  of  London. 
One  hundred  and  fifty  feet  it  threw  its  column  of  water  six  feet 
in  diameter,  and  held  it  unbroken  sometimes  for  ten  minutes, 
and  never  less  than  five  minutes.  Its  mound  had  long,  gradually 
sloping  sides,  terraced  with  a  succession  of  ivory-lined  reser- 
voirs of  every  conceivable  shape,  that  had  been  made  and  worn 
by  the  falling  water.  Many  of  these  reservoirs  had  been  con- 
verted into  stationary  card  baskets ;  at  least  several  names  were 
written  on  the  bottoms  of  these  little  receptacles  by  explorers  and 
soldiers  who  had  ventured  there  before  us.  Although  written 
in  pencil  they  could  not  be  erased,  the  water  having  formed  a 
transparent  glaze  over  the  lines  that  will  preserve  them  forever. 

We  slept  on  the  ground  nearby  without  tents,  glad  with  the 
joy  of  seeing  such  wondrous  marvels  of  Nature,  and  yet  upon  our 
camp  grounds  to-day  stands  the  largest  log  house  in  the  world. 

A  pectdiar  thumping  sound  attracted  us  toward  the  river  and 
we  left  Old  Faithful  to  learn  the  origin  of  the  noise.  Every  foot 
of  the  way  we  found  new  attractions,  and  petrifactions  were  all 
around  us.  Old  socks  which  had  been  thrown  in  the  water  had 
been  bleached  to  snowy  whiteness,  and  were  so  brittle  that  a 
gentle  pressure  would  break  them  in  bits,  and  petrified  wood  was 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  265 

in  all  stages  of  transformation.  At  the  river  the  opposite  bank 
was  a  perpendicular  wall  some  thirty  feet  high  and  seemingly 
of  solid  stone,  but  about  four  feet  above  the  surface  of  the  water 
was  an  opening  in  the  rock  about  twenty  inches  square,  as  if  cut 
by  human  hands.  Through  the  opening  the  water  poured  with 
regular  pulsations,  and  the  roar  inside  the  rock  sounded  like  the 
machinery  of  a  great  Corliss  engine. 

We  crossed  the  river  just  above  this  strange  phenomenon  by 
walking  on  an  old  tree  that  had  fallen  across  to  the  other  bank, 
and  went  down  the  river  to  what  we  afterwards  decided  was  the 
Beehive,  but  there  were  so  many  formations  similar  that  we  could 
not  at  first  determine.  It  looked  like  a  defunct  geyser  mound 
shaped  like  an  old  conical  beehive,  and  not  more  than  five  feet 
higher,  but  there  was  no  steam  arising  from  it.  We  were  very 
tired  and  stopped  there  to  rest  awhile  and  watch  for  the  next 
eruption  from  some  quarter.  Pard  climbed  up  and  sat  himself 
down  on  the  summit  of  the  cone,  while  the  rest  were  content  to 
lean  against  it  or  sit  at  its  base.  We  waited  in  vain  for  half  an 
hour,  then  went  up  to  the  foot  of  the  hill  where  some  large 
geysers  were  showing  signs  of  activity.  But  we  afterward  saw 
the  same  geyser  that  afforded  Pard  a  resting  place  throw  its 
waters  300  feet  straight  up  toward  the  heaven.  Pard  gazed  on 
what  might  have  been  his  elevated  position,  then  with  his  usual 
expression  of  "the  great  smash"  he  examined  the  ground  around 
as  if  assuring  himself  that  he  was  not  standing  on  another  geyser 
of  like  dangerous  inclination. 

When  we  stepped  up  to  the  edge  of  the  Grand  Geyser  its 
waters  suddenly  disappeared  like  a  thing  of  life  that  was  fright- 
ened or  angry  at  our  approach.  It  had  an  aperture  of  thirty 
feet  in  diameter,  and  down  its  curiously  shaped  crater  we  could 
gaze  and  comment  on  its  strange  beauty,  as  well  as  its  remarkable 
conduct.  When  the  water  all  dropped  down  out  of  sight,  I 
looked  at  Pard  and  then  at  the  hole  in  the  ground.  He  said  it 
was  evident  that  Mr.  Grand  did  not  receive  calls  at  that  hour 
and  had  gone  out.  We  were  wondering  whether  the  water 
would  come  back,  when  there  was  a  groaning  and  grumbling  as 
if  a  conclave  of  witches  was  in  session  in  the  subterranean  vault, 
then  the  water  rushed  up  about  half  way  and  as  suddenly  dropped 
out  again,  and  a  shock  from  below  shook  the  very  earth;  then 
without  further  warning  the  whole  boiling  volume  of  water, 


266        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


sufficient  for  an  ordinary  river,  shot  up  fifty  feet  into  the  air. 
We  jumped  back  from  the  crater  and  ran  like  wild  deer,  but  we 
could  not  escape  the  baptism.  Fortunately  the  water  was  thrown 
so  high  that  it  was  sufficiently  cool  not  to  burn,  but  it  was  wet 
and  so  were  we,  thoroughly  drenched.  Out  of  its  power  we 
looked  back  and  saw  it  gaining  glory  every  instant,  and  finally 
lifting  its  column  over  two  hundred  feet,  lashed  into  fury  by 


the  escaping 
to  the  earth  like 
monds,  then  roll- 
side  its  vast  tri- 
We  returned 
to  our  horses  and 
for  the  night  far- 
stream  to  a  little 
between  the  Grot- 
Both  of  these  lat- 
showed  signs  of 
while  partaking  of 
former  seemed 
We  dipped  the 
spring  close  by 
washed  and  wiped 
then  hiding  the 
from  Jack  Frost 
the  Grotto.  The 
ser  was  remark- 
centre  of  the  main 
obstructed  the  di- 


■^^ 


Where  Pard  might  have  been 


steam,  and  falling 
a  shower  of  dia- 
ing  down  the  hill- 
bute  to  the  river, 
after  this  display 
moved  our  camp 
ther  down  the 
point  of  timber 
to  and  the  Giant, 
ter  named  geysers 
eruption,  and 
our  supper  the 
greatly  agitated, 
dishes  in  a  hot 
and  they  were 
at  the  same  time ; 
bread  and  bacon 
we  went  over  to 
dome  of  this  gey- 
able.  Over  the 
opening  an  arch 
rect  passage  of  the 
with  which  the 
of   the   cave    had 


water.    The  force 

water  had  been  thrown  back  on   the   sides 

worn  great  holes  through  the  walls,  forming  a  half  dozen  or  more 

orifices  through  which  the  water  poured  with  great  force. 

Campfires  were  built  on  two  sides  of  it,  and  looking  at  the 
blaze  through  one  of  these  openings  (which  was  large  enough  for 
a  man  to  crawl  through)  it  gave  the  appearance  of  a  blaze  of  fire 
coming  up  the  chimney,  and  the  steam  had  such  a  weird  un- 
natural appearance  that  one  might  expect  almost  anything  to 
step  out  of  the  mazy  shroud.  The  display  lasted  half  an  hour, 
and  although  that  geyser  had   a  record   of   spouting  several 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone 


267 


times  a  day,  that  was  the  only  eruption  that  we  saw.  We  pre- 
pared several  fires  ready  to  light  around  the  Giant,  but  it  failed 
to  favor  us  during  our  stay. 

I  will  never  forget  how  good  the  fried  potatoes  were  that  Mr. 
Marshall  prepared  for  our  supper  that  night,  and  we  gave  him 
credit  for  much  forethought  in  regard  to  the  mess  box,  but  we 
learned  later,  at  the  expense  of  empty  stomachs,  that  he  only 


"With  only  the  stars  for  a  canopy  we   lay  in  the  midst  of  the  greatest 
wonders  of  the  world  ** 


provided  for  one  good  meal,  regardless  of  the  time  we  expected  to 
be  out  on  any  trip. 

Just  before  we  rolled  ourselves  in  our  blankets  for  the  night 
a  crackling  noise  was  heard  in  the  dead  brush  close  by  and  we 
knew  it  meant  some  wild  animal.  An  investigation  failed  to  re- 
veal the  cause,  but  a  little  later  the  horses  became  restless  and 
neighed  and  stamped  in  fear,  and  an  uncanny  feeling  settled 
upon  ourselves  and  our  guide. 

We  had  no  tents,  and  with  only  the  stars  for  a  canopy  we  lay 
in  the  midst  of  the  greatest  wonders  of  the  world — with  a  roar  like 
many  storms  and  battalions  of  artillery  breaking  the  quiet  air. 


268         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

We  hung  our  wet  clothing  around  the  campfire,  and  with  the 
ground  for  a  mattress  and  pine  boughs  for  a  pillow  we  passed 
the  night  in  waiting,  listening,  and  sleeping  by  turn,  but  withal 
we  rested  our  tired  limbs  and  made  ready  to  endure  the  fatigues 
still  ahead  of  us.  Mr.  Marshall  said  he  kept  vigil  until  daylight, 
but  the  morning  sun  revealed  fresh  bear  tracks  around  our  camp 
as  large  as  a  man's  hat.  Having  no  desire  for  a  closer  acquaint- 
ance, we  did  not  hunt  for  bruin. 

There  are  no  snakes  in  Yellowstone  Park,  making  the  place 
an  ideal  one  for  camping,  as  it  is  much  easier  to  avoid  wild 
animals  than  the  quiet  creeping  reptiles. 

The  morning  after  our  return  from  the  Upper  Geyser  Basin 
our  party,  including  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Marshall,  of  the  Lower  Basin, 
Pard,  and  myself,  started  for  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs,  a 
distance  of  forty  miles,  in  a  light  wagon.  It  was  necessary  to 
make  it  a  two  days*  trip  because  of  the  numerous  points  of 
interest  along  the  way,  and  also  because  of  the  horrible  road. 
There  are  no  adjectives  in  our  language  that  can  properly  de- 
fine the  public  highway  that  was  cut  through  heavy  timber 
over  rolling  ground,  with  the  stumps  left  from  two  to  twenty 
inches  above  ground,  and  instead  of  grading  around  a  hill  it 
went  straight  to  the  top  on  one  side  and  straight  down  on  the 
other;  whereas  a  few  hundred  dollars,  properly  expended,  would 
have  made  it  one  of  the  finest  drives  in  the  world. 

We  had  to  abandon  the  light  wagon  and  returned  for  a  new 
start  on  horseback,  for  it  was  impossible  to  get  any  conveyance 
over  the  stumpy  road,  so  Mrs.  Marshall  then  decided  not  to 
make  the  trip  but  remain  at  the  Marshall  cabin.  It  was  the  only 
attempt  at  a  road  in  the  park,  and  what  had  been  done  with  the 
Government  funds  was  pretty  hard  to  see.  The  trails  in  the 
park,  with  one  or  two  exceptions,  were  very  difficult  to  follow 
and  we  often  lost  our  way.  It  was  a  trip  in  marked  contrast  to 
the  beautiful  roads  and  well-equipped  stages  and  good  hotels  of 
to-day. 

The  day  was  one  of  nature's  loveliest,  while  the  air  was  clear, 
and  just  a  little  frosty;  the  eye  could  easily  detect  the  loca- 
tion of  a  geyser  or  a  boiling  spring,  by  the  rising  steam.  We 
crossed  Canyon  Creek  ten  miles  from  the  cabin.  It  was  a 
pretty  little  mountain  stream,  noted  for  its  abundant  supply  of 
shellfish,  which  resemble  somewhat  the   Eastern   clam.     Half 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  269 

a  mile  from  the  creek  were  the  Gibbon  Falls,  but  a  careftil  watch 
for  the  gtiideboard  was  necessary,  for  the  falls  are  five  hundred 
feet  almost  straight  down  the  hill  and  hidden  by  the  timber. 
It  was  a  long  hard  climb  over  a  dim  trail,  but  we  were  well  paid 
for  the  trouble  when  we  saw  the  clear  water  pouring  over  the 
long,  smooth,  inclined  slab,  for  these  falls  are  not  perpendicular. 

A  little  farther  on  was  a  pretty  little  lake,  swarming  with 
feathered  game,  and  before  we  ceased  our  comments  on  the  lake 
we  entered  the  Gibbon  Canyon.  The  barren  walls  on  one  side 
rose  two  thousand  feet  above  us,  while  on  the  other  side  the  less 
pretentious  pinnacles  were  clad  in  bright  robes  of  varied  coloring. 

In  this  defile  we  heard  again  a  puffing  sound  like  the  steady 
pulsations  of  some  monstrous  engine.  A  short  curve  in  the 
road  soon  revealed  the  secret.  An  aperture  in  the  perpendicular 
wall  on  our  left  some  five  feet  in  diameter  was  sending  forth  a 
volley  of  steam  with  a  boom-boom-boom  and  it  never  ceased  to 
beat  with  regular  pulse  like  a  pounding  sea. 

From  here  we  found  small  geysers  and  hot  springs  all  along 
the  way  through  the  canyon.  Sometimes  in  the  very  edge  of  the 
river,  again  nearer  by  on  the  hillside,  while  two  or  three  times 
where  the  road-bed  was  elevated  a  few  feet,  they  would  spurt  out 
of  the  hillside  below  us  as  if  indignant  at  our  intrusion,  and  were 
threatening  to  tear  the  ground  from  under  us.  Huge  boulders 
glutted  the  stream  and  afforded  some  queer  studies.  "The 
Twins"  were  a  couple  of  massive  rocks  almost  exactly  alike,  in 
the  middle  of  the  stream  but  a  few  feet  apart. 

At  one  of  the  fords  of  the  river  there  was  a  monument  of 
solid  rock  thirty  feet  high  without  a  bit  of  soil  upon  its  tall,  well- 
rounded  form,  yet  right  on  the  summit,  like  the  spire  of  a  village 
church,  stood  a  tall,  solitary  pine  tree. 

Leaving  the  canyon  we  entered  Elk  Park  or  Gibbon  Basin, 
which  was  full  of  fine  grass  for  the  horses  and  plenty  of  good 
water,  so  we  rode  up  to  a  little  cluster  of  trees  and  pitched  our 
camp  for  the  night. 

A  blazing  campfire  was  soon  warming  the  air  around  us,  pine 
boughs  were  brought  in  plenty  for  beds,  and  active  preparations 
were  in  progress  for  supper  when  the  shades  of  night  began  to 
gather  about  us.  A  tent  was  an  unknown  luxury  with  us  in 
camping  out  on  these  trips,  and  the  stars  now  twinkled  at  us 
through  the  treetops  as  if  assuring  their  protection. 


270         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  squirrels  skipped  frantically  among  the  trees  chattering 
and  scolding  as  if  we  were  going  to  broil  them  for  our  supper. 
Even  the  butcher  birds  came  hopping  around  for  crumbs,  and 
their  little  white,  owlish  faces  and  beadlike  eyes  glistened 
through  the  firelight  and  shone  almost  as  bright  as  the  stars 
themselves. 

When  supper  was  over  we  gathered  around  the  fire  that  had 
been  piled  with  pine  knots,  each  began  to  think  of  hob-goblin 
stories  of  younger  days,  and  then  took  a  turn  in  spinning  yarns ; 
so  by  the  time  the  embers  began  to  die  we  were  well  prepared  to 
see  all  the  stumps  and  trees  in  motion  and  to  fancy  all  kinds  of 
sombre  sounds ;  and  no  one  seemed  surprised  when  Pard  declared 
the  screeching  of  a  wild  goose  in  the  distance  to  be  the  whistling 
of  an  elk. 

When  the  morning  came  out  on  the  hilltops  we  had  breakfast 
and  were  on  our  way  to  the  Paint  Pots,  a  quarter  of  a  mile  from 
the  road  east  of  Elk  Park.  We  groped  our  way  along  over 
broken  and  dead  timber  like  a  person  in  the  dark,  for  there 
was  no  trail,  in  spite  of  the  signboard  that  told  us  there  was. 
The  Paint  Pots  were  like  the  boiling  springs  in  their  general  out- 
line, but  instead  of  containing  their  clear  ethereal  waters  they 
had  a  thick,  pasty  substance  that  bubbled  and  spurted  like  boil- 
ing mush.  Their  charm  is  in  the  different  colorings.  The  first 
was  white  as  alabaster,  and  it  was  said  this  substance  had  been 
used  for  plaster  and  paint  with  eminent  success,  but  where  I 
know  not.  The  next  one  was  a  delicately  tinted  pink;  then  a 
deep  red,  and  one  still  deeper  in  color,  and  more  than  that  were 
a  repetition  of  those  mentioned.  Around  each  of  them,  where 
the  boiling  paint  had  overflowed  its  curiously  moulded  bowl, 
the  coloring  included  all  the  shadings  of  the  rose,  also  both  white 
and  black,  and  in  little  nooks  where  only  the  steam  could  moisten 
the  ground  there  grew  the  richest  green  moss  that  eyes  ever 
beheld. 

The  pots  differed  in  the  size  of  their  openings  from  a  foot 
and  a  half  to  ten  and  twelve  feet  in  diameter.  When  these 
paints  were  exposed  to  the  air  and  cold  they  became  as  hard  as 
granite,  and  when  partly  cooled  they  could  be  moulded  like 
putty  or  stiff  dough. 

Several  of  these  paint  pots  were  on  a  side  hill,  and  the  over- 
flow produced  a  kaleidoscopic  coloring  too  beautiful  to  describe. 


qu  beqmui  Yt  .  .  .  ^.  ^''     -^  ot  bsvoiio^  .:.,■■   aIo  3di  nsriV/' 
9i9rfT  .  .  .  .3i9tri3d  t  sib  aiiia     ,med1  iB  gnBiqa  bnB 

z^Als  9x11  Y^^^fi^w^o^  lud  ,dqB0S9  o1  biB^  loi  aonfirio  sUfil  8bw 


9bBm  9ri    2B    bB9b  1(9^  er^ 


h..:^M-:l 


oria  asw  riJ3n9iJa 
.qBsf  9ldm9j  sdl 


270        Fifteen  Thou^^and  Miles  by  Stage 

The  squirrels  skipi  iva.iy  among  the.  trees  chattering 

and  scolding  as  if  we  ing  to  broil  them  for  our  supper. 

Even  the  butcher  bir<is  came  ho^iping  around  for  crumbs,  and 
their  little  white,  owlish  faces  and  beadlike  eyes  glistened 
through  the  fireli)?ht  and  shone  almost  as  bright  as  the  stars 
themselves. 

When  supi..,  „....  ..iOund  the  fire  that  had 

been  piled  with  pine  :  to  think  of  hob-goblin 

stories  of  yovir  en  took  '  n  spinning  yarns ; 

so  by  the  time    ...  . .  ,  .  .  ^,.in  to  die  ..  ^"^i  t^^-epared  to 

see  aU  the  stumps  and  trees  in  motion  and  kinds  of 

sombre  sounds;  and  no  one  seemed  surprised  when  Pard  declared 
the  screeching  of  a  wild  goose  in  the  distance  to  be  the  whistling 
of  an  elk. 

When  the  morning  came  out  on  the  hilltops  we  had  breakfast 

and  were  on  our  wav  to  tha.Paim,  Pols,  a, niiarto-r  nf.p  jnil<^  frnrn 
,    **When  the  elk  was  believed  to  be  dead  ...  it  jumped  up 

,and  sprang  at  them.     Elks  are  ferocious  fighters.  .  .  .  There 

was  little  chance  for  Pard  to  escape,  but  fortunately  the  elk's 

^strength  was  short-lived  .  .  ;^,and  he  fell  dead  as  he,  made 

,the  terrible  leap."     p.  270.  .       .^ 

iv  tr        r      >  waters  they 

^.Dra^n  by  Charles  M^RusselL  ,    nted  like  boil- 

ing mush  '  different  colorings.     The  first 

was  white  as  alabaster,  and  it  was  said  thi  *  ice  had  been 
used  for  plaster  and  paint  with  eminent  ,  but  where  I 

know  not.  The  next  one  was  a  delicately  tinted  pink;  then  a 
deep  red,  and  one  still  deeper  in  color,  and  more  than  that  were 
a  repetition  of  those  mentioned.  Around  each  of  them,  where 
the  boiling  paint  had  overflowed  its  curiously  moulded  bowl, 
'     *  ig  included  all  the  shadings  of  '  : ,  ■      '  oth  white 

and  in  little  nooks  where  onl}  ,  i  moisten 

here  grew  the  richest  green  moss  that  eyes  ever 
t. 

iiffered  in  the  size  of  >penings  from  a  foot 

and  a  \\h  n  and  twelve  feet  in  diameter.     When  these 

paints  we  I  d  to  the  air  and  >^  "v  became  as  hard  as 

granite,  a.  •  partly  cooled  ild  l:>e  moidded  like 

putty  or  stiii 

Several  of  int  pots  were  '.      t  ..lut:  nill,  and  the  over- 

flow produced  oscopic  coloring  too  beautiful  to  describe. 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  271 

Returning  to  camp  we  found  that  another  ten  minutes'  delay 
would  have  been  disastrous  for  our  party.  We  had  left  a  fire 
burning  believing  it  would  soon  die  out ;  but  instead  it  had  crept 
up  a  log  leading  to  our  trappings  and  was  lapping  its  fiery  tongue 
around  the  mess  box  and  having  a  merry  dance  with  some  gunny 
sacks  close  by  our  bedding  then  under  the  end  of  the  pine  bough 
canopy.  How  glad  we  were  that  nature  had  not  held  us  longer 
in  her  famous  art  gallery  can  best  be  realized  by  a  like  experience. 
Order  was  hastily  restored,  our  lesson  learned  that  we  must  not 
leave  fires  burning,  and  soon  we  were  trotting  along  to  the  Norris 
Plateau,  or  Norris  Geyser  Basin. 

This  plateau  embraced  twenty-five  square  miles  and  seemed 
to  be  not  only  the  most  elevated  and  largest,  but  may  also  have 
been  the  most  important  and  doubtless  the  oldest  geyser  basin  in 
the  park.  It  certainly  was  the  hottest  and  most  dangerous  for 
pedestrians.  The  first  little  joker  we  reached  was  the  Minute 
Geyser,  and  with  an  orifice  of  only  a  few  inches  it  spurted  up  some 
five  feet  every  sixty  seconds,  and  then  died  down  and  showed  not 
a  ripple  on  its  placid  surface  until  it  spurted  again  on  time  with- 
out any  warning.  To  the  right  of  the  Minute  Geyser  was  the 
Mammoth  Geyser,  and  well  it  deserves  its  name.  When  it  is 
quiet  one  can  go  up  to  the  crater  and  study  its  beaded  chimney, 
and  look  down  its  long  dark  throat,  and  shudder.  Its  chim- 
ney was  about  four  feet  high,  with  an  orifice  two  feet  by 
three  feet  in  diameter.  Its  voluminous  outbursts  have  fairly 
disembowelled  the  mountain  at  whose  base  it  stands  for  a  dis- 
tance of  a  hundred  feet  or  more,  and  at  least  forty  feet  in  width, 
while  its  greatest  depth  that  can  be  seen  does  not  exceed  twenty 
feet. 

While  walking  around  in  this  excavation  the  ground  began 
to  shake  beneath  us  like  an  earthquake,  and  we  stood  not 
upon  the  order  of  our  going,  but  went  at  once  toward  other 
ground.  We  were  none  too  soon  in  our  going,  for  after  a  few 
groans  and  puffs  of  steam  it  threw  such  a  volume  of  water  as  we 
had  never  yet  seen;  the  water  was  lifted  many  feet  above  us» 
lashed  into  fury  by  an  unseen  force  and  hurled  into  its  surround- 
ing basin,  where  it  ploughed  like  a  giant  river  that  had  burst  its 
bounds  and  for  a  short  time  flooded  the  lower  part  of  the  plateau. 

When  the  road  was  again  reached  we  were  startled  by  a 
tumult  of  discordant  sounds,  and  fitful  paroxysms  coming  from 


272         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  side  of  the  embankment.  The  hole  looked  like  the  very- 
entrance  to  Hades,  and  the  groans  and  hisses  seemed  the  dia- 
bolical laugh  of  Pluto  and  his  imps  giving  the  mythical  degrees  of 
torture  to  his  victims.  The  blackness  of  night  was  upon  every 
rock,  and  through  the  dismal,  darkened  dive  came  only  the 
murky  stream  laden  with  the  sickening  fumes  of  sulphur  from  an 
overheated  cauldron. 

"How  great  and  wonderful  are  thy  works,  O  God,"  had  been 
the  constant  cry  of  my  soul,  and  yet  there  seemed  no  end  to  the 
mysteries  before  us  and  on  every  side. 

Provided  with  good  heavy  sticks  to  sound  our  way  we  were 
about  to  step  out  on  that  part  of  the  plateau  which  needs  so 
much  care  for  safety,  when  a  signboard  attracted  our  attention. 
It  just  gave  the  name  of  the  plateau,  but  underneath  some  one 
who  had  evidently  tried  Colonel  Norris'  favorite  road  with  a 
buggy,  had  added  in  pencil:  "Government  appropriations  for 
public  improvements  in  the  park  in  1872,  $35,000.  Surplus  on 
hand  October  i,  1880,  $34,500." 

The  rattling  and  tapping  of  the  canes  on  the  ground  gave 
warning  of  the  soft  or  thin  spots,  and  we  were  soon  in  the  midst 
of  a  sea  of  geysers.  The  whole  crust  of  many  acres  was  formed 
by  the  deposit  of  siliceous  matter  from  the  springs,  and  upon  it 
were  many  curious  formations.  People  have  broken  through 
this  crust  and  been  very  badly  scalded. 

One  of  the  first  geysers  seemed  to  be  wholly  sulphurous  and 
the  fumes  were  so  strong  that  it  would  strangle  us.  Around  its 
orifice  were  beautiful  crystals  of  deep  yellow  sulphur  so  delicately 
interlaced  that  even  a  breath  of  air  would  displace  them,  then 
again  there  would  be  great  chunks  of  sulphur,  and  from  the 
edges  and  jagged  sides  in  the  orifice,  which  was  several  feet  in 
diameter,  hung  a  network  of  stalactitic  beauties,  while  the  water 
looked  as  clear  and  pure  as  any  other  spring. 

Another  geyser  spouted  and  drew  our  attention  as  if  fearful 
that  we  might  pass  it  unnoticed.  Around  it  were  little  drifts 
like  newly  fallen  snow  in  large  flakes.  It  was  so  pure  and  white 
that  I  tasted  it  and  found  it  to  be  alum  with  the  crystals  still 
moist  with  spray  and  soft  as  snow  itself. 

The  ground  was  so  hot  all  over  this  plateau  that  our  boots 
were  badly  burned  and  our  feet  uncomfortably  warm.  Every 
few  steps  there  would  be  an  escape  valve  with  the  steam  whis- 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone 


273 


tling  up  through  a  hole  perhaps  not  more  than  an  inch  across. 
We  were  never  in  doubt  when  we  were  standing  on  one  as  to 
its  force  and  temperature,  nor  did  it  take  long  to  arrive  at  a 
conclusion. 

The  Alabaster  Fountain  was  on  an  eminence  near  the  side  of 
the  road,  and  its  constant  overflow  had  trimmed  its  pedestal 
in  narrow  terraces,  and  pure  white  as  alabaster  could  be,  and  as 
solid  as  granite.  It  was  about  six  by  eight  feet  across  the  sur- 
face of  the  water,  and  there  seemed  no  end  to  the  distance  that 


Courtesy  of  Northern  Pacific  Ry.  Co. 

"  Pure  white  as  alabaster  could  be  and  as  solid  as  granite." 

we  could  see  down  the  deep  funnel.  Not  a  speck  of  dust  darkens 
its  clearness,  and  its  very  purity  seemed  to  defy  the  greatest 
vandal  to  touch  it  with  a  pencil  or  otherwise  deface  its  glory. 

A  few  miles  beyond  this  great  basin  we  passed  the  base  of 
Obsidian  Mountain,  which  is  the  divide  of  the  Missouri  and  Yel- 
lowstone waters.  The  mountain  looms  up  like  a  sheet  of  glass 
and  its  shiny  surface  gives  many  colors  in  the  sunlight,  including 
black,  brown,  yellow,  and  red,  and  every  little  splinter  has  the 
same  glassy  appearance  as  the  mass. 

The  Mammoth  Hot  Springs  of  Gardner  River  were  at  last  in 

sight,  after  a  very  long,  hard  pull  over  a  mountain,  where  several 

times  we  felt  riveted  to  the  spot,  unable  to  go  another  step  from 

sheer  exhaustion  of  both  man  and  beast. 
18 


274        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  gorge  in  which  the  Gardner  Springs  are  located  is  over 
1200  feet  above  the  level  of  Gardner  River.  From  the  river  up 
there  are  fourteen  terraces,  and  the  largest  and  hottest  springs 
are  near  the  top.  The  waters  have  rolled  down  and  deposited 
their  lime  until  they  have  built  huge  bowls  or  reservoirs  one  after 
another.     The  limestones  which  dip  under  the  river  extend  under 


Courtesy  of  Northern  Pacific  Ry.  Co. 

Gardner  River  Hot  Springs 

the  hot  springs,  and  are  doubtless  the  source  of  lime  noticed  in 
the  waters  and  deposits.  One  can  walk  almost  anywhere  on  the 
terraces  as  they  are  secure  and  firm.  There  is  so  much  lime 
that  it  gives  the  whole  earth  a  white  appearance,  while  the  inside 
of  these  natural  bathtubs  seem  to  be  porcelain  lined  and  the  water 
is  a  beautiftd  blue  white.  The  outside  crusting  is  rough  and 
uneven  with  stalactites  in  profusion,  which  in  some  instances 
united  with  the  stalagmites  from  the  terrace  below. 

Each  level  or  terrace  has  a  large  central  spring,  and  the  water 
bubbling  over  the  delicately  wrought  rim  of  the  basin  flows  down 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  275 

the  declivity,  forming  hundreds  of  basins  from  a  few  inches  to 
six  and  seven  feet  in  diameter  and  often  seven  feet  in  depth. 

The  main  terrace  has  a  basin  thirty  by  forty  feet  across,  and 
the  water  is  constantly  boiling  several  inches  above  the  sur- 
face; but  a  careful  approach  will  permit  one  to  peep  into  the 
reservoir  and  get  a  glimpse  of  the  mossy  vegetable  matter  that 
lines  its  sides  in  a  rich  light  green  that  constantly  waves  with  the 
ebullition  of  the  water,  and  as  the  blue  sky  is  reflected  over  all  it 
lends  an  enchantment  that  no  artist  can  duplicate. 

Our  attention  was  called  to  a  monument  some  fifty  feet  high 
and  twenty  feet  in  diameter.  No  one  was  able  to  give  any  reason 
for  its  existence.  The  top  was  shaped  like  a  cone  and  on  the  very 
summit  was  a  funnel-shaped  crater  which  would  lead  one  to  be- 
lieve that  it  had  once  been  an  active  geyser,  but  it  bore  the 
significant  title  of  "Liberty  Cap." 

On  the  terrace  just  above  Liberty  Cap  is  a  fountain  known  as 
the  Devil's  Thumb.  I  poked  my  head  into  one  of  the  many 
large  caverns  which  had  once  been  boiling  reservoirs,  and  inhaled 
the  sickening  fumes  of  Hades.  I  not  only  expected  to  see  his 
Satanic  Majesty's  thumb,  but  his  entire  self  as  well,  and  could 
fancy  he  would  drag  me  in  and  carry  me  down  for  his  dinner. 

There  are  incidents  of  travel  that  are  more  interesting  to  read 
about  than  to  experience,  and  I  am  sure  that  a  part  of  our  trip 
to  Yellowstone  Lake  and  Canyon  is  a  more  agreeable  memory 
than  the  living  reality. 

The  sky  was  full  of  threatening  clouds  the  morning  that 
our  little  party  started  out  with  saddle  and  pack  animals  for 
the  upper  Yellowstone  River.  We  followed  the  same  old 
Indian  trail  that  General  Howard  and  his  troops  did  two  years 
before,  and  although  there  had  not  been  a  dollar  spent  on  the 
road  it  was  the  only  respectable  trail  in  the  whole  park.  For 
several  miles  we  rode  along  the  east  fork  of  the  Fire  Hole  River, 
and  then  began  a  slow  but  steady  ascent  of  the  Rockies'  main 
range. 

After  starting  on  this  climb  we  saw  what  seemed  to  be  a 
flying  centaur  coming  rapidly  toward  us,  but  it  proved  to  be 
the  wings  of  Colonel  Norris'  great  coat  flying  in  the  wind  as  he 
rode  madly  down  the  trail.  We  had  missed  him  at  the  Mam- 
moth Springs,  and  now  he  insisted  upon  retracing  his  steps  and 
making  one  of  our  party.     He  started  ahead  over  a  trail  so  plain 


276  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

that  a  child  could  not  lose  it,  the  only  visible  trail  we  had  found, 
and  every  half  mile  he  turned  to  assure  us  that  we  need  not  worry 
about  getting  lost,  he  would  keep  in  the  lead  and  there  was  no 
danger.     Colonel  Norris  was  the  Superintendent  of  the  park. 

There  was  but  one  mountain  range  to  cross,  and  on  the  sum- 
mit "Mary's  Lake,"  with  its  rockbound  shore  lent  great  charm. 
Many  sulphur  springs  and  spouting  geysers  Hned  the  way,  and 
finally  we  cut  off  through  the  timber  to  the  renowned  Yellow- 
stone Lake.     The  lake  is  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles  from 


y^^m^^^^^Sm 

w 

P^ 

^^''uahJML^ 

wki*^. 

* 

\  ml 

l^^^^i'^ 

\.^.:.^ 

^^ 

r 

Jupiter  Terrace  of  the  Mammoth  Hot  Springs 


the  head  of  the  Yellowstone  River,  and  its  peculiar  position  and 
topography  as  well  as  other  natural  features  render  it  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  inland  seas  in  the  world.  Its  shape  is  that  of  a 
hand  with  the  four  fingers  and  thumb,  and  it  is  situated  in  a 
vast  depression  that  can  be  seen  miles  away.  Its  western  and 
northern  shores  are  pebbly  beaches  like  most  large  lakes.  It  is 
thirty  miles  long  and  from  ten  to  fifteen  miles  wide.  Around  its 
edges  are  numerous  hot  springs  near  which  one  can  stand  and 
catch  a  fish  from  the  main  body  of  the  lake,  and  without  taking 
it  from  the  hook  throw  his  line  into  a  boiling  spring  and  cook  his 
fish  at  once  if  he  likes  it  that  way. 

Cold  gray  mountains  lift  their  snowy  heads  and  gaze  with 
just  admiration  at  their  reflections  in  the  vast  wealth  of  blue 
below.      Numerous  swan,  geese,  pelican,  ducks,  and  even  sea- 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  277 

gulls,  were  seen  floating  on  the  placid  bosom  of  the  lake,  and 
flying  around,  while  tracks  of  wild  animals  were  too  many  for 
comfort. 

The  lake  was  dotted  with  pretty,  heavily  timbered  islands, 
and  Dr.  Hayden's  report  says  some  of  them  are  impossible  to 
explore  because  of  the  dense  growth  of  underbrush,  and  being 
dangerous  from  the  number  of  bear,  mountain  lions,  and  other 
wild  animals  that  inhabit  them.  The  rare  specimens  found 
around  the  lake  are  worthy  of  mention.  In  one  locality  there 
are  implement  handles,  knives  and  forks,  cooking  utensils,  and 
many  utensils  of  a  clay  slate,  a  substance  formed  by  the  action 
of  the  mineral  water  on  the  claylike  soil. 

There  were  also  deposits  of  red  sandstone  boot  soles  as  per- 
fect as  could  be.  Again  there  were  shaving  cups  of  other  forma- 
tions, which  when  split  would  form  the  cup  and  cover.  A  strange 
peculiarity  is  that  none  of  these  can  be  found  by  digging  into 
the  bank  or  beach;  they  are  only  on  the  surface,  and  though 
picked  up  every  year  they  come  again  with  the  summer  time. 
The  fact  that  they  belonged  to  the  Aztec  race,  as  some  writers 
declare,  cannot  be  true,  or  they  would  be  found  by  digging.  We 
broke  camp  early  in  the  day  and  rode  some  twenty  miles  around 
the  lake,  then  reluctantly  started  for  the  Yellowstone  Falls 
twenty-five  miles  away.  There  was  every  indication  of  a  storm, 
which  at  that  season  was  not  an  agreeable  anticipation,  and 
this  one  broke  about  3  p.m.  We  were  peppered  with  hail- 
stones until  the  horses  became  unmanageable.  There  was  a 
call  to  dismount  at  Sulphur  Mountain  to  rest  our  horses  for  a 
few  moments  and  the  word  was  scarcely  given  before  every 
foot  was  out  of  its  stirrup. 

Sulphur  Mountain  was  composed  of  yellow  suphur  and  lava 
and  there  were  a  number  of  boiling  sulphur  springs  around  it, 
the  principal  one  being  shaped  like  an  egg,  and  named  "The 
Devil's  Bath  Tub"  by  a  Helena  party  who  thought  the  tem- 
perature about  right  for  his  Satanic  Majesty's  ablutions.  At 
the  base  of  the  hill  is  a  cavern  down  which  we  could  see  some 
fifty  feet.  The  water  in  it  comes  through  a  subterranean  passage 
from  the  mountain  above,  and  is  black  and  muddy  and  con- 
stantly lashing  its  sides.  It  was  the  most  horrible,  infernal 
looking  thing  that  we  had  encountered.  Darkness  had  settled 
when  we  reached  the  Yellowstone  River  and  we  hastened  into 


278         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


camp.  Pard  had  been  commissioned  to  get  an  elk  on  a  neigh- 
boring hill  and  Colonel  Norris  rode  ahead  to  select  the  camp, 
while  Mr.  Marshall  and  I  rode  along  more  slowly  until  the 
colonel  called  us  to  the  camp  of  his  selection. 

Instead  of  selecting  a  place  under  good  trees,  he  had  stopped 
in  the  middle  of  an  opening  on  a  side  hill.  The  rain  began 
to  fall  almost  as  soon  as  we  were  out  of  the  saddles.  Pard  had 
come  in  without  his  elk,  and  everything  betokened  a  dismal  night. 

The  beds  were 
made  at  once  and 
covered  with  can- 
vas to  keep  them 
as  dry  as  possible. 
I  longed  for 
something  good 
to  be  brought  out 
of  the  mess  chest, 
but  it  was  the 
same  old  bread 
and  bacon,  and 
the  same  old  ex- 
cuse from  Mr. 
Marshall,  but  a 
ride  of  thirty-five 
miles  made  us  glad 
to  get  even  that. 
After  supper  we 
stood  around  the 
fire  to  dry  our 
clothing,  but  as 
fast  as  one  side  was  dry  another  side  was  wetter  than  ever, 
and  thus  we  kept  whirling  around  as  if  on  a  pivot  until  we  gave 
up  and  went  to  bed  wet  to  the  skin.  We  were  lulled  to 
sleep  by  the  deep,  sonorous  voice  of  Colonel  Norris  who  forgot 
to  stop  talking  when  he  went  to  sleep,  and  he  was  still  talk- 
ing right  along  when  we  woke  up  at  midnight.  The  rain 
changed  to  snow,  and  through  the  storm  we  saw  the  dis- 
consolate face  of  Mr.  Marshall,  as  he  stood  near  the  smoulder- 
ing campfire  muttering  to  himself  as  if  he  had  become  demented. 
Upon  inquiring  the  cause  of  his  trouble  he  said  as  soon  as  he  saw 


Fishing  at  Yellowstone  Lake 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  279 

the  snow  he  went  to  look  for  the  horses,  and  they  were  gone. 
"Gone  !  !  !"  we  all  exclaimed  in  unison  and  despair.  The  horses 
were  gone  and  we  were  at  the  end  of  our  rations  with  a  big  storm 
upon  us.  The  many  warnings  not  to  go  into  the  park  so  late 
went  buzzing  through  our  minds  like  bumblebees.  The  snow 
was  several  inches  deep  and  falling  faster  every  minute.  Mr. 
Marshall  had  walked  several  miles  but  could  find  no  trace  of  the 
animals.  "And  that  was  not  the  worst  of  it,"  he  groaned,  and 
while  we  held  oiir  breath  for  a  worse  calamity  he  continued, 
"  I  lost  my  pipe."     Five  miles  from  the  falls  and  thirty  miles  from 


"  In  camp  near  the  Great  Falls  " 

the  base  of  supplies  at  Lower  Basin,  buried  under  the  snow  with 
little  hope  of  getting  out,  no  food,  and  the  pipe  gone,  was  indeed 
a  deplorable  condition. 

Pard  seldom  lost  his  temper  when  things  went  wrong,  but  he 
was  furious  when  he  learned  about  the  horses.  He  had  earnestly 
pleaded  with  Mr.  Marshall  to  tie  the  horses  for  fear  of  just  such 
a  calamity  and  now  he  declared  that  Marshall  must  get  me  out 
of  there  if  he  had  to  carry  me  every  step  on  his  back.  The 
situation  was  too  serious  to  be  ludicrous  at  the  time  and  every 
one  was  astir  about  camp.  As  soon  as  daylight  came  the  men 
started  in  search  of  the  horses.  I  was  left  all  alone  in  the  camp 
for  several  hours  waiting  with  my  rifle  in  hand,  until  after  a 
hard  and  hurried  chase  the  horses  were  overtaken  and  brought 
back.  They  had  stopped  to  feed  on  the  bank  of  a  hot  creek 
which  we  had  much  difficulty  in  making  them  cross  when  we 
came  out,  and  they  were  then  struggling  between  their  dislike  for 


28o  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  hot  water  and  their  desire  for  home  on  the  other  side  of  it. 
It  was  with  loud  hurrahs  that  I  hailed  their  approach,  and  I 
am  sure  every  heart  beat  with  joy.  We  knew  that  we  should 
hurry  home  as  quickly  as  possible,  but  to  be  within  five  miles 
and  not  to  see  the  falls  was  asking  too  much,  and  with  the 
return  of  the  horses  we  resolved  at  once  to  go  on. 

Superintendent  Norris  thought  it  was  not  best  for  me  to  go 
to  the  falls ;  the  trip  must  be  a  hasty  one,  and  the  start  home 
was  not  to  be  delayed  longer  than  possible  for  fear  of  continued 
storm.  The  snow  ceased  falling  soon  after  daylight,  but  the 
sun  did  not  appear  and  there  was  every  indication  of  more  snow. 
Pard  was  reluctant  to  leave  me,  as  he  knew  what  disappointment 
lurked  in  my  detention,  but  he  was  overruled,  and  with  Mr. 
Norris  he  started  off  leaving  me  with  Mr.  Marshall,  who  was  to 
have  everything  ready  for  the  return  to  Fire  Hole  Basin  on  their 
return. 

The  more  I  meditated  the  more  I  felt  that  I  could  not  give 
up  seeing  the  canyon  and  falls.  To  endure  what  we  had  only 
to  be  balked  by  a  paltry  five  or  ten  miles  was  more  than  I  could 
stand.  I  called  to  Mr.  Marshall  to  saddle  my  horse  at  once 
for  I  was  going  to  the  falls.  He  laughingly  said  "all  right,  "  but 
he  went  right  on  with  his  work  and  made  no  move  toward  the 
horse.  I  had  to  repeat  the  request  the  third  time  most  emphati- 
cally, and  added  that  I  would  start  out  on  foot  if  he  did  not  get 
my  horse  without  more  delay.  He  said  I  could  not  follow  them 
for  I  would  not  know  the  way,  but  I  reminded  him  of  the  freshly 
fallen  snow,  and  that  I  could  easily  follow  the  trail.  He  was  as 
vexed  with  my  persistence  as  I  was  with  his  resistance,  and  he 
finally  not  only  saddled  my  horse  but  his  own,  and  rather  sulkily 
remarked  that  if  the  bears  carried  off  the  whole  outfit  I  would  be 
to  blame.  When  well  on  our  way  I  persistently  urged  him  to 
return  to  the  camp  and  he  finally  did  turn  back,  but  waited  and 
watched  me  until  I  turned  out  of  sight. 

Alone  in  the  wild  woods  full  of  dangerous  animals  my  blood 
began  to  cool,  and  I  wondered  what  I  should  do  if  I  met  a  big 
grizzly  who  would  not  give  up  the  trail.  The  silence  of  that 
great  forest  was  appalling  and  the  newly  fallen  snow  made  cush- 
ions for  the  horse's  feet  as  I  sped  noiselessly  on.  It  was  a  grue- 
some hour,  and  to  cheer  myself  I  began  to  sing,  and  the  echoing 
voice  coming  back  from  the  treetops  was  mighty  good  company. 


Coiirlesy  Union  Pacific  Railway    Co. 

The  Falls  and  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Yellowstone 


38l 


282  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  five  miles  seemed  to  stretch  out  interminably.  When  about 
a  mile  from  the  falls  other  voices  fell  on  my  ear,  and  I  drew 
rein  to  locate  the  sound,  then  gave  a  glad  bound  forward  for  it 
was  Pard  on  his  way  back.  Mr.  Norris  said  any  one  might 
think  that  Pard  and  I  had  been  separated  for  a  month,  so  glad 
were  we  to  see  each  other. 

Pard  could  not  restrain  his  joy  that  I  had  followed,  and 
sending  the  superintendent  on  to  the  camp  he  at  once  wheeled 
about  and  went  with  me  to  the  falls  and  canyon  that  I  came  so 
near  missing.  Up  and  down  o'er  hills  and  vales  we  dashed  as 
fast  as  otir  horses  would  carry  us  until  the  upper  falls  were 
reached,  where  we  dismounted  and  went  up  to  the  edge  of  the 
canyon  to  get  a  better  view.  These  falls  are  visible  from  many 
points  along  the  canyon,  and  the  trail  runs  close  to  them  and 
also  by  the  river  for  several  miles,  giving  the  tourist  many 
glimpses  of  grandeur.  Above  the  upper  falls  the  river  is  a 
series  of  sparkling  cascades,  when  suddenly  the  stream  narrows 
to  thirty  yards,  and  the  booming  cataract  rushes  over  the  steep 
ledge  a  hundred  and  twenty  feet  and  rebounds  in  fleecy  foam  of 
great  iridescence.  The  storm  increased  and  the  heavens  grew 
darker  every  hour,  but  we  pushed  on. 

Midway  between  the  upper  and  lower  falls  are  the  famous 
crystal  cascades  of  Cascade  Creek,  over  which  is  a  rustic  bridge 
from  which  we  watched  the  torrent  pour  its  offering  into  the 
grand  canyon  and  race  its  waters  for  the  first  leap  over  the  brink. 
The  cascade  consists  of  a  fall  of  five  feet,  followed  by  one  of  fif- 
teen into  a  little  grotto  between  two  tall  boulders  which  nearly 
form  an  arch  at  the  top.  A  deep  pool  is  formed  at  the  base 
where  the  waters  rest  for  an  instant  and  are  then  forced  to  roll 
from  the  grotto  over  a  slanting  slab  of  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  feet  to  the  Yellowstone  below.  The  river  widens  to  a  hun- 
dred yards  between  the  falls  and  flows  with  a  gentle  current. 
The  bluffs  converge  again  near  the  lower  falls,  the  one  on  the 
west  side  bulging  out  as  if  to  intercept  the  stream,  but  the 
waters  held  an  opening  a  hundred  feet  wide,  and  with  a  wild 
roar  they  dashed  over  the  verge  three  hundred  and  ninety-seven 
feet.  The  awful  grandeur  of  the  scene,  the  opening  of  the  grand- 
est canyon  in  the  world  at  our  feet,  the  raging  storm  and  gather- 
ing snow,  afforded  a  picture  worth  a  world  of  trouble  to  obtain. 
The  foaming,  frothing  spray  lifted  high  above  the  verge  of  the 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  283 

cataract  and  rose  in  a  column  of  fleecy  purity.  It  was  grand, 
indeed.  We  lay  flat  upon  the  ground  and  peered  down,  down, 
down  into  the  deep  canyon,  and  in  spite  of  the  snow  we  could 
catch  glimpses  of  the  fine  coloring  that  decked  the  mountain- 
sides. 

Moran  has  been  chided  for  his  high  coloring  of  this  canyon, 
but  one  glimpse  of  its  rare,  rich  hues  would  convince  the  most 
skeptical  that  exaggeration  is  impossible.  We  longed  to  stay  for 
days  and  weeks  and  hear  this  great  anthem  of  nature  and  study 
its  classical  and  noble  accompaniment,  but  there  was  a  stern 
decree  that  we  must  return,  and  that  without  delay. 

There  was  no  hope  for  sight-seeing  as  we  kept  on  our  way 
back  to  the  Lower  Geyser  Basin.  My  horse  was  always  tired  and 
hungry.  I  pegged  away  with  my  little  whip  to  make  her  keep  up, 
but  she  did  not  mind  it  as  much  as  she  would  a  fly.  When  there 
were  any  streams  or  ditches  to  cross  she  would  absolutely  refuse 
to  wet  her  feet  until  the  whole  party  woiild  return  and  show  her 
the  strength  and  power  of  a  few  lashes,  then  she  would  paw 
the  air  while  dancing  on  her  hind  feet,  until  seeing  no  avenue 
of  escape  she  would  leap  over.  Those  were  the  only  times 
she  ever  exhibited  any  disposition  to  have  any  style  about 
her. 

Without  giving  our  horses  or  ourselves  over  half  an  hour  to 
rest  at  noon  we  rode  on  and  on,  up  hill  and  down,  through  woods 
and  plains,  fording  the  Fire  Hole  River  again  and  again,  until 
at  last  the  lights  of  Marshall  camp  were  in  sight.  The  storm 
had  continued  all  day,  turning  again  from  snow  to  rain  in  the 
valley,  and  O  how  tired  I  was  when  we  rode  up  to  the  door. 
Our  forty  mile  ride  was  ended  at  seven  o'clock,  but  it  took  three 
men  to  get  me  off  my  horse,  for  I  had  stiffened  into  the  saddle 
until  I  was  helpless.  We  had  ridden  eighty-five  miles  in  two 
days,  and  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  in  three  days,  and 
I  had  been  obliged  to  ride  a  man's  saddle  as  the  trails  were  so 
dangerous  that  we  were  absolutely  refused  a  horse  for  a  side- 
saddle. 

The  day  after  our  return  from  the  falls  I  was  so  lame  that  I 
wanted  to  scream  with  pain,  and  tears  rolled  down  my  cheeks  in 
spite  of  my  efforts  to  make  fun  of  my  decrepit  condition.  There 
was  considerable  raillery  regarding  my  condition,  but  also  much 
sympathy  expressed,  and  the  others  talked  of  their  plans  for  the 


284  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Courtesy  Northern  Pacific  Railway  Co. 

Great  Falls  of  the  Yellowstone  three  hundred  and 
ninety-seven  feet  high 


day  without  in- 
cluding me,  and 
they  were  not  a 
Httle  surprised 
when  I  ordered 
my  horse  saddled 
with  the  others. 
Their  eyes  opened 
with  amazement; 
no  one  beHeved 
that  I  meant  it 
but  Mr.  Marshall, 
— his  experience 
of  the  day  before 
made  him  know 
when  I  was  in  ear- 
nest, and  I  was 
not  to  be  coaxed 
to  remain  in  an 
easy  chair  and 
have  them  make 
a  trip  without  me. 

A  platform  was 
improvised  nearly 
on  a  level  with  the 
horse's  back,  and 
with  plenty  of 
help  and  agony  I 
managed  to  slide 
into  the  saddle. 
We  rode  twenty- 
five  miles  that  day 
and  I  ate  my 
lunch  in  the  sad- 
dle for  fear  I  could 
not  get  on  the 
horse  again  if  I 
got  off. 

Aside  from  vis- 
iting geysers  and 


Early  Days  in  Yellowstone  285 

springs,  Mr.  Marshall  and  Pard  did  some  hunting  on  the  way 
home,  and  brought  down  a  fine  elk  having  seven  pronged 
antlers.  It  was  a  wild  fight.  When  the  elk  was  believed  to  be 
about  dead,  Pard  waited  for  the  death  struggle  when  suddenly 
it  jumped  up  and  sprang  at  them.  Elks  are  fearful  fighters 
and  with  their  hoofs  they  strike  and  stamp  without  mercy. 
There  was  little  chance  for  Pard  to  escape,  but  fortunately 
the  elk's  strength  was  shortlived.  It  was  his  final  effort,  and 
he  fell  dead  as  he  made  the  terrible  leap. 

It  was  a  case  of  necessity  to  get  game,  for  food  was  getting 
low ;  we  had  had  no  meat  for  several  days  previous  to  getting  the 
elk,  our  time  had  come  to  leave  the  park,  and  every  day  made  it 
more  perilous  to  remain.  Superintendent  Norris  had  assisted 
us  in  making  a  fine  collection  of  specimens,  which  we  considered 
invaluable,  and  had  them  carefully  packed  to  ship  home.  The 
elk  head  was  shipped  to  Denver  and  mounted  for  Pard's  office 
in  the  Union  Pacific  depot. 

There  were  as  yet  no  laws  against  taking  specimens  from  the 
park  or  killing  wild  animals.  Very  few  people  had  visited  that 
section ;  indeed  I  was  the  first  white  woman  who  made  a  complete 
detour  of  the  park,  so  that  really  the  pick  of  the  place  was  offered 
us  by  Mr.  Norris.  He  knew  that  it  would  be  the  best  kind  of 
advertising  for  park  tourists,  and  indeed  it  was. 

The  specimens  were  so  valuable  that  when  they  were  loaned 
as  a  collection  to  a  Denver  exposition  a  special  guard  was  placed 
over  them,  but  in  an  unwatched  hour  the  major  part  of  them  were 
stolen  and  never  recovered.  They  would  be  of  priceless  value 
indeed  now  when  one  dare  not  pick  up  even  a  pebble  in  the 
park. 

We  left  the  park  with  the  hope  of  spending  a  longer  season 
there  at  an  early  day  as  there  were  many  places  of  interest  that 
we  had  to  lightly  pass,  and  perhaps  many  that  we  did  not  see  at 
all.  There  is  not  a  section  of  the  park  that  has  not  its  peculi- 
arities. Dr.  Hay  den  estimated  that  ten  thousand  boiling  springs 
and  spouting  geysers  were  in  that  strange  region. 

With  beds  on  the  hard  ground  and  little  over  us  but  the 
stars,  with  modest  fare  to  work  on,  and  blind  trails  to  follow,  the 
trip  through  the  park  was  in  marked  contrast  to  the  elegant 
coaching  trip  of  the  present  day,  where  boulevards  lead  the 
traveller  to  luxurious  hotels  at  convenient  intervals  for  his  night 


286         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

of  rest.  But  we  had  the  compensation  in  the  charms  of  nature 
which  go  with  the  wilderness  and  wonders  in  all  their  primal 
glory. 

There  was  a  wealth  of  jewels  on  the  trees  on  the  frosty 
morning  of  our  departure,  such  as  mortal  man  has  seldom  seen. 
The  steam  had  settled  on  the  trees  and  caught  by  the  wintry 
night  blast  was  held  in  crystalline  spheres  until  the  rising  sun 
melted  the  rigid  chain.  The  shimmering  motion  of  warmth 
and  wind  made  the  air  resplendent  with  liquid  diamonds  and 
iridescent  glory. 

When  full  day  came  over  the  hills  we  cast  a  long  admir- 
ing glance  over  the  magnificent  view  and  were  borne  reluctantly 
away  to  the  Rodgers  House  in  Virginia  City  where  we  roughly 
estimated  that  more  than  four  hundred  miles  of  travel  in  the 
park  had  been  made  on  horseback. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
TO  THE  PACIFIC  VIA  WOOD  RIVER  AND  BOISE 


kROM  Virginia  City  we  staged  it 
around  a  500  mile  circle,  first 
taking  in  Bozeman,  Fort  Ellis, 
and  other  settlements  to  the 
eastward,  then  northwestward  to 
Helena,  southward  through  Butte 
to  the  Utah  and  Northern  term- 
inus at  Dillon,  from  where  we 
I      ^    I     ^llk  ^^^were    to    again    enjoy    a    day's 

/  I      /^[^  ^travel  by  rail  to  Blackfoot,  which 

f  ^^  was    still    the  jumping-off   place 

for  central  Idaho.  We  found 
much  improvement  in  such  of 
the  country  as  we  had  visited  two 
years  before.  Even  old  Virginia 
City  had  put  on  some  new  life, 
and  the  valleys  of  the  Gallatin, 
Madison,  and  Jefferson,  those 
noble  triple  heads  of  the  Missouri, 
were  showing  much  activity  as  a  result  of  the  railway  approach 
to  their  various  settlements.  We  had  now  gone  entirely  around 
the  beautiful  heads  of  the  Missouri  on  foot,  horse  back,  or  stage, 
and  even  down  near  the  great  forks  mentioned  found  the  waters 
so  perfectly  clear  that  we  could  hardly  believe  they  could  ever 
have  such  dirty  faces  in  the  prairie  lands  to  the  south. 

Pard  had  a  joyous  surprise  in  Bozeman  in  a  call  from  Captain 
"Teddy"  Egan,  commander  of  the  "Egan  Grays"  under  Gen- 
eral Crook,  during  the  Sioux  war.  These  two  companions  in 
days  of  peril  were  hke  a  couple  of  schoolgirls  in  their  joy  and 
clatter  of  tongues,  telling  how  they  and  Major  Luhn  divided  the 

287 


288         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

last  spoonful  of  beans  and  lived  on  horseflesh  for  many  days; 
how  the  men  had  divided  the  night  watch,  that  comrades  might 
not  sleep  the  sleep  of  death  on  the  Yellowstone  campaign  when 
the  mercury  was  down  to  thirty  below  zero  every  day  for  a 
month,  with  not  a  single  tent  for  the  500  troops,  and  only  two 
blankets  to  the  man.  How  when  Crazy  Horse  surrendered, 
Bob  was  the  first  man  after  General  Crook  to  shake  the  warrior 
by  the  hand.  These  two  were  in  General  Crook's  "mess," 
but  there  were  seldom  any  luxuries  that  the  rank  and  file  did 
not  have ;  officers  and  men  shared  alike  in  all  things  in  General 
Crook's  command. 

They  had  one  good  laugh  over  a  time  when  Pard  had  dis- 
obeyed orders  and  fired  a  gun.  One  day  on  the  march,  when 
rations  were  scarce,  Pard,  who  was  riding  out  of  sight  of  the 
command,  in  a  neighboring  ravine,  fired  his  gun  when  there 
were  strict  orders  that  no  guns  should  be  fired  or  fires  lighted  to 
betray  the  soldiers'  presence  to  the  Indians.  The  commanding 
officer  demanded  in  thundering  tones  to  be  told  who  was  dis- 
obeying orders  and  that  the  culprit  be  brought  to  him  immedi- 
ately. When  the  officer  saw  that  it  was  Bob  Strahorn  he  did 
not  lessen  the  severity  of  his  voice,  but  wanted  to  know  why 
such  strict  orders  had  been  disobeyed.  "Well,  General,"  said 
Bob,  meekly,  "I  was  so  near  some  grouse  that  I  could  fairly 
smell  a  chicken  pie  and  my  hunger  must  be  my  excuse.  I  am 
ready  for  the  penalty,  whatever  it  may  be."  As  the  officer  was 
also  in  the  same  "mess"  with  General  Crook  and  Bob,  he  drew 

a  little  nearer  to  Bob  and  whispered  that  it  would  make  a  d d 

sight  of  difference  whether  he  got  the  grouse  or  not;  then  as  he 
spied  the  fine  pair  of  birds  that  Pard  had  kept  concealed,  he 
resumed  his  gruff  and  austere  tone  and  said,  "As  this  is  your  first 
offence  you  can  go,  sir,  but  don't  let  it  happen  again — never 
again,  sir."     And  the  mess  ate  the  chicken  pie. 

Helena  was  rapidly  improving,  and  the  people  were  the  same 
whole-souled,  hospitable  citizens  as  of  yore.  No  one  could  feel 
like  a  stranger  in  their  midst,  when  their  hearts  and  homes 
offered  such  cordial  welcome.  The  town  was  spreading  out 
more  over  the  valley,  and  its  suburban  districts  afforded  fine 
roads  for  pleasure  driving.  Returning  from  a  lovely  ride  one 
morning,  a  sheet  of  wrapping-paper  was  blown  across  the  street 
in  front  of  our  spirited  horses.     They  began  to  back  and  paw 


To  the  Pacific  via  Wood  River  and  Boise    289 

the  air  at  a  frantic  rate;  they  struck  out  with  their  front  feet, 
and  threatened  destruction  to  anything  in  reach,  and  for  a 
few  seconds  things  looked  serious,  but  in  less  time  than  I  can 
write  it  there  were  two  men  at  the  head  of  each  horse,  three  to 
drop  the  carriage  top,  foiu*  to  hold  the  lines,  five  to  help  me  out, 
and  twenty-five  to  watch  the  performance  in  the  ring,  free  of 
charge. 

Nearly  all  the  men  of  Helena  who  were  not  in  commercial 
pursuits  were  interested  in  cattle,  mining,  or  engaged  in  freight- 
ing.    There  was  no  need  for  any  man  to  be  idle  for  a  single  day 


There  *s  no  place  like  home 

in  tne  Northwest,  if  he  wanted  to  work ;  neither  was  there  need 
for  people  to  leave  Montana  disappointed  if  they  entered  it  with 
the  spirit  to  work.  It  required  as  steady,  genuine  application 
in  that  country  as  elsewhere  to  accumulate  a  fortune,  but  it 
required  a  shorter  time,  because  wages  were  higher  and  work 
plenty,  and  opportunities  for  advancement  everywhere. 

Butte  changed  past  recognition  in  two  years.  Its  growth  and 
mining  record  was  without  an  equal.  Its  business  men  proved 
their  confidence  in  her  permanency  for  years  to  come  by  putting 
their  profits  into  new  business  blocks  and  in  business  enter- 
prises, though  Butte  has  never  to  this  day  become  a  home  city. 

We  left  Butte  on  this  trip,  in  1880,  to  go  south  to  Black- 
foot,  Idaho.  The  stage  was  filled  to  the  limit.  Pard  had  taken 
his  seat  on  the  outside,  but  it  was  so  cold  that  the  inside  was 
more  inviting  to  me,  and  as  soon  as  the  cry  of  "All  aboard"  was 
19 


290  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

given,  the  crack  of  the  jehu's  whip  sent  the  unruly  bronchos 
spinning  all  over  the  road. 

Among  the  passengers  was  a  woman  with  two  little  girls, 
and  the  sudden  starting  of  the  coach  set  them  to  coughing  so 
suspiciously  that  I  at  once  asked  the  mother  if  the  little  girls  had 
the  whooping  cough,  and  she  promptly  denied  any  such  trouble, 
but  one  of  the  little  girls  turned  her  great  surprised  eyes  up  to 
her  and  said:     "Why,  yes,  we  have,  Mamma." 

I  don't  know  where  that  chum  of  mine  was  raised  that  he  had 
escaped  all  those  plagues  of  childhood,  and  that  he  should  reach 
maturity  without  measles,  mumps,  whooping  cough  or  chicken 
pox,  and  I  had  to  keep  a  net  of  watchfulness  around  him  at  all 
times.  He  never  was  more  anxious  to  ride  inside  than  after  we 
were  well  out  of  Butte,  and  I  finally  had  to  pass  him  a  note  say- 
ing that  whooping  cough  might  be  worse  than  mumps,  and  he 
better  remain  outside. 

The  Utah  and  Northern  terminal  had  by  this  time  been  for- 
warded to  Dillon  and  every  trip  into  Montana  meant  a  few  less 
miles  of  stage  travel  and  a  few  more  miles  of  comfort.  Dillon 
was  bustling  in  its  first  trousers  like  a  little  hoodlum  of  the 
Bowery.  Sounds  of  hammer  and  saw  were  ringing  everywhere, 
and  no  one  could  believe  it  was  the  Sabbath  day.  Every  mer- 
cantile place  and  saloon  was  wide  open,  and  every  corner  of  the 
settlement  was  bristling  with  life.  It  was  a  luxury  indescribable 
to  bolster  one's  self  with  plenty  of  pillows  in  a  Pullman  palace  car 
and  move  smoothly  over  the  rails  and  hear  them  sing  the  song  of 
our  destination — "Going  to  Blackfoot,  going  to  Blackfoot,  going 
to  Blackfoot"  until  we  dozed  in  happy  forgetfulness  of  the 
tortuous  roads  we  were  soon  to  cross. 

A  little  rest  at  Blackfoot  made  us  eager  to  get  on  in  our 
journey,  and  after  a  second  trip  to  Challis  and  Bonanza  we 
turned  off  to  the  Wood  River  country  and  thence  to  Boise  City. 
The  ride  from  Challis  to  Lost  River  Junction  was  a  rocky  one  of 
a  hundred  and  twenty  miles,  and  on  our  arrival,  about  11  p.m., 
learning  that  the  Boise  stage  would  not  leave  until  seven  o'clock 
the  next  morning,  we  called  for  a  bed,  and  we  were  rather  gruffly 
informed  as  we  had  been  once  before  that  there  was  not  a  bed 
within  twenty  miles.  It  was  a  question  of  again  rolling  up  in 
our  blankets  on  the  little  store  floor  or  sitting  up  out  in  the  stage- 
coach and  we  chose  the  former.    We  chose  our  corner  and  settled 


To  the  Pacific  via  Wood  River  and  Boise    291 


ourselves  as  well  as  we  could,  and  it  was  not  long  before  there  was 
a  chorus  of  snores  such  as  Sancho  Panza  never  heard  when  he 
said,  "God  bless  the  man  who  first  invented  sleep."  The  whole 
scale  of  sounds  was  there — one  man  ran  the  whole  octave  and 
then  let  go  like  the  escape  valve  of  a  steam  engine ;  another  gave 
the  squawk  of  the  guinea  hen,  and  a  third  struck  a  note  on  a 
high  key  and  gave  a  chromatic  descendo  of  four  or  five  notes,  as 
if  his  body  might  be  crushed  by  a  wedge.  Still  another  gave  a 
y ep-hoo;  one 
more  gave  a 
squeal  like  a  pig 
under  a  gate,  and 
ten  or  twelve  good 
healthy  snores 
made  a  chorus 
not  soon  forgotten 
or  forgiven. 

Sleep  seemed  a 
long  way  from  my 
corner,  and  then 
a  strange  odor  be- 
gan  filling  the 

room,  and  as  it  increased  there  came  a  rescue  to  reason,  and  I 
knew  something  was  on  fire.  Just  then  a  little  glimmer  of  light 
shot  up  in  a  far  comer,  and  I  quickly  roused  Pard  and  gave  the 
alarm.  The  man  who  was  afire  was  soon  rescued  with  little 
loss  except  a  part  of  his  blanket.  He  had  carried  a  bunch 
of  matches  in  his  pocket,  the  old-fashioned  California 
matches,  where  about  fifty  would  stick  together  in  a  bunch 
less  than  an  inch  square.  They  were  sulphur  tipped  and 
easily  ignited,  and  in  turning  himself  on  his  hard  bed  he  had 
rubbed  the  whole  cluster  into  a  blaze.  Had  I  too  been  asleep  it 
might  have  been  the  last  sleep  for  all  of  us.  There  was  a  bit  of 
satisfaction  for  me  in  the  morning  when  I  discovered  that  he  was 
the  man  who  the  night  before  had  said  women  had  no  business 
travelling  in  such  a  country,  and  he  had  expressed  himself  in  no 
gentle  terms.  But  when  he  knew  it  was  the  woman  who  saved 
him  from  burning,  he  was  most  effusively  apologetic. 

It  was  along  through  a  part  of  that  section  of  the  country 
which  was  still  marked  on  the  school  maps  as  unexplored  territory 


A  doleful  incident  of  the  Overland  Trail 


292         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

that  the  road  led  to  Bellevue  in  Idaho,  and  there,  too,  was  where 
the  great  lava  beds  of  Idaho  are  most  prominent. 

Bunches  of  greasewood  and  sage-brush  are  the  only  products 
that  vie  with  the  black  masses  of  basalt  in  that  vast  domain  of 
volcanic  origin,  unless  snakes,  jack  rabbits,  and  coyotes  might 
be  termed  products  of  that  part  of  the  world.  The  lava  assumes 
most  grotesque  shapes  at  times,  and  again  it  rises  in  tall  minarets 
that  stand  as  watchful  sentinels.  With  a  little  imagination  added 
one  can  see  almost  any  shape  chiselled  in  the  black  hard  substance. 
It  is  just  the  kind  of  a  country  that  the  Indian  loves  to  fight  in, 
because  of  the  dark  and  devious  places  to  hide  and  to  entrap  the 
unsuspecting  victim  of  his  vicious  nature.  Indians  will  never 
come  out  boldly  in  the  open  to  fight  unless  they  know  they  have 
every  advantage  on  their  side. 

The  only  bit  of  brightness  was  the  few  richly  colored  lichens 
that  grew  on  the  rocks  and  gave  all  the  charm  that  the  panorama 
possessed.  The  roads  were  rough,  but  fairly  free  from  dust, 
making  the  ride  as  agreeable  as  could  be  expected  through  such 
desolation  and  the  lack  of  all  that  makes  our  world  so  beautiful. 

A  night  was  spent  at  Fish  Creek,  in  a  cabin  of  two  rooms,  with 
a  dirt  floor.  One  bed  was  in  the  kitchen  and  two  in  the  living- 
room,  with  some  calico  curtains  around  them.  Sixteen  people 
had  to  stay  there  that  night.  We  arrived  in  the  second  coach, 
but  ladies  were  few,  so  we  got  one  of  the  beds.  From  Fish  Creek 
to  Bellevue  the  next  day  the  scene  changed  to  beautiful  meadows, 
ribboned  with  crystal  streams,  and  flanked  to  the  north  by  the 
Wood  River  Mountains,  which  were  carpeted  to  their  summits 
with  a  thick  turf  of  bunchgrass,  cured  to  the  golden  hue  of  the 
ripest  wheat  field. 

Bellevue  had  a  population  of  about  four  hundred  people, 
and  the  hotel  was  a  log  cabin  of  four  rooms.  The  ofiice  and  bar 
occupied  one  room ;  the  dining-room,  kitchen,  and  living-room  were 
a  trinity  in  one;  a  small  bedroom,  without  a  window,  opened  only 
from  the  bar,  and  the  upper  half  story  was  a  corral,  where  a 
score  of  beds  were  known  by  numbers. 

From  Wood  River  Junction  to  Bellevue  there  was  among  the 
passengers  a  young  girl  who  came  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  meet 
her  lover  and  be  married.  An  uncle  had  come  with  her  to  see 
that  the  service  was  properly  performed,  because  he  did  not  like 
the  would-be  husband,  and  had  been  unable  to  persuade  the  girl 


To  the  Pacific  via  Wood  River  and  Boise     293 


to  give  up  the  man  of  her  choice.  The  bridegroom  did  not  show- 
up  when  the  stage  arrived,  nor  for  several  hours  afterward,  but 
the  uncle  rounded  him  up  and  had  the  marriage  take  place  at  once. 
After  the  evening  meal  some  of  the  village  rounders  kidnapped 
the  benedict  because  he  would  not  treat  them,  and  he  was  kept 
locked  up  for  three  days  until  he  would  open  his  purse  in  the 
proper  way.     Word  was  sent  to  the  bride  that  her  husband 


The  way  they  make  the  desert  drink 

was  all  right,  though  too  stingy  to  deserve  a  wife,  and  he  would 
return  in  due  time. 

We  were  given  the  one  single  room  off  the  office  and  bar.  It 
had  no  outer  door  or  window,  and  the  office  was  full  of  men  smok- 
ing all  kinds  of  tobacco  and  drinking  all  kinds  of  liquor.  The 
room  was  black  with  smoke  most  unendurable,  and  it  was  a 
relief  when  the  last  man  had  gone  to  his  bunk,  and  one  thing  I 
must  say  in  their  favor  is  that  they  were  kind  enough  to  go  early. 

Belle vue  was  the  entrepot  of  the  then  brand  new  Wood  River 
mining  country,  and  a  boom  for  the  town  seemed  near  at  hand. 
Mines  were  being  developed  and  sold,  and  good  news  of  that  kind 
came  in  every  day.  There  were  many  branches  of  business  not 
yet  represented,  and  not  a  bank  in  all  the  Salmon  River  country, 
or  on  Wood  River. 


294         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  tonsorial  artist  of  the  town  was  working  in  an  enclosure 
of  logs,  with  no  roof  over  it,  and  when  Pard  went  in  to  enjoy 
the  luxury  of  a  shave  it  was  snowing  so  hard  that  he  was  soon 
covered  with  sleet  and  snow. 

Ketchum  was  eighteen  miles  up  the  valley  and  the  town  of 
Hailey  later  located  between  Ketchum  and  Bellevue  was  not  yet 
incubated.  Hailey  ultimately  quite  absorbed  Bellevue,  and  when 
that  time  came  houses  that  were  being  talren  bodily  to  the  more 
fortunate  location  up-river  dotted  the  entire  seven  miles  of  road- 
way between  the  two  towns  and  to  the  nearly  total  abandonment 
of  the  older  one. 

There  was  a  funny  little  chap  came  into  the  hotel  and  recog- 
nized Pard  as  an  old  travelling  companion  in  Montana  and  an 
acquaintance  of  the  Black  Hills.  He  was  a  little,  short  Canadian, 
with  black  hair,  eyes,  and  mustache.  With  a  weird  toss  of  his 
head  he  called  Pard  to  him  and  said  he  had  the  finest  saddle 
horse  in  the  country,  and  if  Pard  wanted  it  for  me  he  could  have 
it  while  we  remained  on  the  river,  but  he  would  never  lend  it  to 
a  man. 

The  public  stage  had  been  taken  off  the  route  to  Boise, 
which  was  150  miles  to  the  west,  because  of  the  limited  business 
and  the  coming  on  of  winter,  and  we  seemed  stranded  on  a  desert, 
sure  enough,  with  but  little  prospect  of  anything  but  a  winter 
where  we  were.  It  made  us  feel  pretty  frosty  at  once  to  think 
that  we  had  been  so  trapped  in  the  outset  of  our  trip  to  the 
western  sea.  But  there  happened  to  be  a  Mr.  Riddle  in  town 
with  a  covered  wagon,  in  which  he  had  brought  a  load  of  fruit  from 
Boise,  and  we  engaged  him  to  return  at  once  and  take  us  as 
passengers.  The  morning  was  clear  and  frosty,  with  mercury 
down  to  zero.  He  had  a  fine  large  bay  team  to  drive  and  an 
extra  horse  tied  behind  the  wagon  as  a  sort  of  emergency  animal. 

Twenty  miles  from  Bellevue  the  vast  open  valley  of  Camas 
Prairie,  which  contains  600,000  acres  of  choice  grazing  and  farm 
lands  is  where  the  Indians  have  fought  almost  inch  by  inch  to 
retain  the  land  for  their  own  ponies  and  for  the  camas  root  which 
grows  there  so  abundantly.  The  camas  is  a  bulbous  plant, 
much  like  an  onion,  and  is  greatly  prized  by  the  redman  for  food. 

There  were  no  houses  in  sight  at  noon,  and  we  camped  by  the 
wayside  and  built  a  fire.  There  was  meat  to  broil,  potatoes  to 
fry,  and  coffee  to  make,  but  it  was  soon  done,  as  our  cook  was 


1^-        pk 


To  the  Pacific  via  Wood  River  and  Boise    295 

most  expeditious.  The  horses  munched  their  oats  from  a  box 
at  the  end  of  the  wagon  with  a  monotonous  content,  and  the  dog 
went  through  all  sorts  of  canine  antics  while  waiting  for  his  share 
of  the  noonday  meal. 

We  reached  a  log  cabin  for  the  night,  which  had  a  door 
but  no  windows,  but  it  was  large  enough  to  make  us  quite 
comfortable. 

One  of  the  horses  was  taken  sick,  and  caused  Mr.  Riddle 
to  put  the  emergency- 
horse  in  the  harness 
next  morning,  and  tie 
the  sick  bay  as  he  had 
tied  the  other  one,  be- 
hind the  wagon,  but 
the  sick  horse  had  no 
inclination  to  submit 
to  any  such  indignity. 
He  would  brace  him- 
self and  pull  back  with 
all  his  might,  giving  Where  the  Indians  fought  for  the  Camas  Root 
the  vehicle  a  jerk  that 

nearly  pulled  it  apart.  When  the  driver  tried  to  reach  the 
beast  with  the  whip,  it  would  jump  sideways  and  balance 
the  wagon  on  one  side  until  it  seemed  that  he  would  surely  be 
the  death  of  us.  The  streams  were  frozen  over  and  we  could 
only  tell  by  trying  them  whether  the  ice  would  hold  up. 
Just  as  we  were  fairly  in  the  middle  of  one  stream,  the  horses 
broke  through,  with  one  side  of  our  wagon.  At  that  stage  of 
discomfort  one  of  the  horses  balked  and  we  were  in  a  distressing, 
as  well  as  dangerous  plight  that  required  patience  and  skill  to  be 
safely  extricated  from.  When  the  balky  horse  was  finally  ready 
to  go,  the  one  behind  was  not,  and  he  took  such  a  rigid  stand  that 
his  halter  broke  and  he  went  off  at  this  own  pace.  Our  trials  were 
many,  and  there  still  dwells  in  my  mind  some  tmfriendly  remarks 
about  that  old  horse  Billy. 

Emerging  from  that  episode  and  spending  a  precious  hour  or 
two  in  catching  the  animal  Pard  thought  he  would  walk  up  a  steep 
hill  behind  Billy  and  use  a  persuader  to  make  him  keep  up  with 
the  procession.  But  if  that  horse  was  sick,  it  must  have  been  with 
St.  Vitas  dance,  for  the  persuader  was  fatal  to  Billy's  good  nature 


296         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

and  he  jumped  from  side  to  side,  rocking  the  wagon  on  a  wheel 
balance  until  I,  too,  was  glad  to  escape  from  it.  The  next  day- 
he  was  put  in  the  harness  again,  but  the  emergency  horse  refusing 
to  be  led  any  more  was  finally  turned  loose  in  the  hope  that  he 
would  follow,  but  he  preferred  to  graze,  and  as  far  as  we  know  he  is 
grazing  yet.  Surely  the  animal  was  well  named  the  emergency 
horse,  for  it  kept  us  in  a  crisis  from  first  to  finish. 

It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  fourth  day  out  from  Wood 
River  when  we  reached  Boise  City.     The  weather  had  been 


"  The  Ovelrand  Hotel  was  a  two-story  ramble  shack,  but  quite  palatial 
after  our  hard  experiences" 

intensely  cold  at  night  time,  even  two  degrees  below  zero,  but  the 
days  warmed  near  noon  and  were  clear  and  bright,  and  in  spite 
of  many  discomforts  we  made  a  good  deal  of  a  picnic  out  of  the 
trip. 

A  big  lot  of  mail  awaited  us  at  the  Overland  Hotel,  and  kept 
my  heart  full  of  joy  for  a  long  time.  We  had  a  grand  visit  with 
friends  on  paper  as  we  sat  by  our  warm  fire,  in  real  rocking  chairs, 
with  good  oil  lamps  to  illuminate  the  pages.  Home  friends 
begged  us  to  give  up  such  rough  travelHng  and  come  back  East, 
not  knowing  that  now  it  was  only  thirty  miles  more  to  Walla 
Walla  than  it  would  be  to  go  to  Kelton  (260  miles),  the  nearest 
railroad  point  toward  home.  They  could  not  realize  what  it 
would  mean  to  give  up  the  coveted  trip  down  the  Columbia  to  the 
sea.  To  miss  the  finest  river  scenery  in  the  world  would  be  too 
great  a  disappointment  not  to  speak  of  the  trip  on  the  Pacific 


To  the  Pacific  via  Wood  River  and  Boise    297 

Ocean,  the  sail  into  the  Golden  Gate,  basking  in  the  orange  groves 
of  Los  Angeles,  and  generally  enjoying  the  grandeur  of  the  Pacific 
slope,  all  now  within  our  grasp.  The  hardships  we  had  endured 
would  only  make  our  joy  the  greater. 

Boise  is  on  the  north  bank  of  the  Boise  River,  where  the  land 
is  quite  level,  but  it  is  encircled  by  a  ring  of  foothills  rising  to  the 
more  majestic  snowy  range.  It  is  at  the  head  of  the  extensive 
and  fertile  valley  of  the  same  name,  which  is  one  of  the  greatest 
fruit-producing  districts  in  the  West.  It  had  a  population  of 
about  2500  people  and  boasted  two  good  newspapers,  the  Semi- 
weekly  Democrat  and  Tri-weekly  Statesman.  They  later  became 
dailies  and  are  still  the  leaders  in  the  State  distribution  of  news . 

The  buildings  were  mostly  one-story  structures,  but  many  of 
them  were  of  brick.  The  hotel  was  a  two-story  ramble  shack, 
but  quite  palatial  after  our  hard  experiences  since  leaving  Salt 
Lake,  and  we  were  glad  for  its  comforts  and  conveniences,  meagre 
as  they  were.  There  was  a  public  school  having  three  hundred 
and  seventy-five  pupils  and  also  an  Episcopal  school  under  the 
charge  of  Prof.  C.  H.  Moore  and  of  Bishop  Tuttle. 

A  distillery,  U.  S.  mint,  packing  house,  and  flouring  mill  were 
doing  a  fine  business.  I  name  the  distillery  first,  because  it  coined 
more  money  than  the  mint,  though  in  a  way  peculiar  to  the  busi- 
ness. Boise  then  as  now  was  the  capital,  and  the  social,  political, 
and  business  centre  of  the  territory.  There  were  many  charming 
people  and  much  enterprise  and  thrift,  with  the  breezy  far- west 
hospitable  atmosphere  we  had  so  much  remarked  at  Helena. 

A  half  dozen  stage  lines  centred  there.  The  one  to  Kelton, 
on  the  Central  Pacific  Railway,  260  miles,  was  the  nearest  rail  con- 
nection, and  had  it  not  been  for  the  little  fruit  wagon  and  the 
courtesy  of  Mr.  Riddle,  we  would  have  had  to  go  back  from 
Bellevue  to  Blackfoot  and  Ogden,  and  around  to  Kelton,  to  reach 
Boise. 

One  other  important  stage  line  was  west  through  Baker  City 
to  Walla  Walla  and  Umatilla,  to  connect  with  the  narrow  gauge 
rail  and  portages  down  the  Columbia  River,  and  the  one  over 
which  we  must  soon  go. 

Idaho  at  that  time  was  bringing  in  some  6,000,000  pounds 
of  freight  annually,  and  its  shipments  of  gold  and  silver  through 
Boise  even  then  were  ranking  it  as  a  very  important  mining 
territory. 


298        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

East  of  town  there  was  an  extinct  volcano  crater  whose 
mountain  is  1500  feet  above  the  valley  and  the  crater  is  perfect 
except  for  a  section  of  the  rim  on  the  northwest  side.  It  is  at 
least  a  hundred  feet  across  the  top,  and  one  can  see  many  feet 
down  into  the  orifice.  On  the  imperfect  side  there  is  a  vast 
deposit  of  lava. 

Immense  stone  quarries  lie  along  the  foot  of  the  nearby 
mountains,  some  of  which  had  already  been  used  for  the  peniten- 
tiary, and  other  pretentious  buildings. 

More  hot  medical  springs  were  within  two  miles  of  Boise, 


Idaho  ox  teams  were  bringing  in  some  6,000,000  pounds  of  freight  annually 


which  bade  fair  to  make  Boise  as  famous  as  a  certain  liquid,  which 
was  not  all  foam,  had  made  Milwaukee.  That  prophecy  has 
been  fulfilled;  the  water  has  not  only  been  piped  into  the  town 
for  family  use,  but  for  heating  purposes  generally,  and  a  verit- 
able palace  of  a  natatorium  is  the  chief  pleasure  attraction  of 
the  present  city  of  20,000  people. 

Idaho  means  "gem  on  the  mountains,"  a  name  given  by  the 
Indians.  When  the  morning  sun  first  rests  upon  a  certain  moun- 
tain it  produces  the  dazzling  brilliancy  of  a  great  gem  on  the 
mountain  top,  and  hence  the  name  was  applied  to  all  that  terri- 
tory. The  name  was  first  published  according  to  correct  trans- 
lation by  Joaquin  Miller. 


CHAPTER  XXV 


BOISE  TO  WALLA  WALLA  VIA  BAKER  CITY  AND  PENDLETON 


UR  coach  was  severely 
crowded  from  Boise 
City,  and  nearly  every 
passenger  felt  inclined 
to  be  a  little  cross. 
There  was  one,  how- 
ever, who  said  she 
never  was  ill-natured 
in  her  life,  but  was  al- 
ways jolly  and  making 
fun.  The  first  "fun" 
that  she  made  for  the  company  was  to  call  for  a  little  bag  of  ap- 
ples which  was  somewhere  in  the  coach.  Everybody  had  to  move 
and  assist  in  the  search,  and  when  it  was  found  the  coach  had  to 
be  stopped  and  baggage  stowed  away  again  to  the  accompani- 
ment of  words  known  only  to  a  stage  driver.  She  was  a  gay 
young  widow,  with  a  male  encumbrance  about  three  years  old. 
While  in  the  full  enjoyment  of  her  apple  she  began  to  sing  in  a 
loud,  coarse  voice  a  song  that  Pard  declared  must  have  been 
entirely  original.     One  verse  ran: 


"  There  's  Billy  and  Sammy  and  Duncan 
And  Johnny  and  William  and  Joe. 
They  can't  make  love  worth  a  button, 
Or  else  they  *re  eternally  slow." 

Then  came  the  chorus : 

"  I  'm  sighin',  I  'm  dyin',  mere  friendship  I  ever  shall  spurn; 
I  'm  sighin',  I  'm  dyin',  to  love  and  be  loved  in  return." 


This  chorus  was  sung  before  and  after  each  verse,  then  re- 
peated with  a  voice  full  of  longing,  and  there  were  about  eight  or 

299 


300        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

ten  verses  all  about  wanting  "to  be  loved  in  dead  earnest*'  and 
the  half  dozen  boys  that  "could  n't  make  love  worth  a  button," 
something  about  oysters,  dinners,  etc.  The  monotony  of  the  song 
was  varied  by  an  occasional  slap  on  the  baby's  face  for  some 
mischievous  freak,  which  made  her  sing  the  louder  while  the 
baby  cried.  There  were  one  or  two  other  songs,  and  the  peculiar 
drawl  of  her  words  made  them  quite  ludicrous.  One  of  them 
was  on  the  Chicago  fire,  and  ran: 

"  O  Mary,  sisture  Mary,  cling  firmer  to  my  arum 
And  I  will  guide  you  safely  through  all  the  fire  allarum-ah. 
O  Mary,  where  is  mother,  and  little  baby  too-oh  ? 
They  're  numbered  with  the  dead,  doh,  whatever  shall  we  do-ah  ?  " 

Chorus: 

"  *Fier,  ah!  fier,  ah!'  hear  the  dreadful  sound-ah  ! 
Chicago  is  on  fier-ah  and  burning  to  the  ground-ah." 

The  men  had  a  chance  to  change  about  as  we  reached  the 
various  stations  along  the  way,  to  climb  up  on  the  outside  and 
smother  their  wrath  in  a  drink  or  a  smoke,  and  otherwise  express 
their  feelings,  but  poor  me!  I  had  to  sit  in  the  seat  with  her  and 
her  boy  and  when  my  patience  reached  the  limit  in  her  abuse  of 
the  poor  child,  I  took  the  dear  little  fellow  up  on  my  lap  and  soon 
had  him  fast  asleep.  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  child  or  more 
senseless  widow.  It  was  like  sunshine  after  a  storm  when  at 
early  dawn  we  stopped  at  the  breakfast  station  and  had  her 
desire  to  be  loved  drowned  in  a  cup  of  poor  coffee.  When  we 
were  well  rid  of  her  at  Baker  City  we  devoutly  prayed  to  be 
delivered  from  any  more  such  "joyous"  dispositions. 

Seventy-five  miles  northwest  of  Boise  City  we  reached  the 
Snake  River  again.  For  many  miles  it  forms  the  dividing  line 
between  Idaho  and  Oregon,  and  after  following  its  crooked  ways 
some  distance  to  the  north  we  were  again  ferried  over  the  river  to 
the  Oregon  side,  and  continued  our  way  through  sage-brush  and 
bunchgrass,  and  very  little  timber,  westward  to  Baker  City, 
140  miles  from  Boise. 

Baker  may  well  be  called  the  pride  of  eastern  Oregon,  as  it 
nestles  among  its  shade  trees  on  the  banks  of  Powder  River.  The 
enterprise  of  its  educational  leaders  should  be  made  a  chapter 
of  history.     There  was  a  boy's  college,  the  Notre  Dame  Academy, 


Boise  to  Walla  Walla  via  Baker  City     301 

an  Academy  built  by  the  State,  and  a  fine  public  school.  They 
were  all  in  use,  with  students  from  far  and  near.  Baker  boasted 
of  these  attractions,  for  she  claimed  but  1500  inhabitants.  Mr. 
Virtue's  bank  block  was  of  cut  stone  and  there  were  several  other 
store  buildings  of  cut  stone  and  several  of  brick.  The  merchants 
carried  heavy  stocks  of  goods  and  enjoyed  large  patronage. 
The  nearest  gulch  mining  to  the  city  was  eight  miles,  but  for 


"  We  were  again  ferried  over  Snake  River  to  the  Oregon  side  " 

twenty  years  there  had  been  an  average  of  $600,000  worth  of 
gold  dust  shipped  annually  from  the  county  through  Baker 
banks. 

The  first  gold  discovery  on  the  Pacific  Coast  was  made  in 
1845,  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Baker,  and  at  the 
time  no  one  knew  what  it  was.  They  used  to  flatten  the  gold  out 
with  hammers  and  use  it  for  ornamental  purposes.  They  knew 
it  to  be  some  kind  of  metal,  and  said  they  found  it  by  the  pocket- 
ful. Those  people  were  driven  from  the  spot  by  Indians,  as 
many  people  have  been  since  then  in  making  attempts  to  find  that 
gold  deposit  again,  but  all  efforts  have  been  in  vain.  One  aged 
mountaineer,  and  one  of  the  original  discoverers,  still  worked  and 
toiled  in  the  vicinity,  and  declared  he  would  die  in  the  search 


302         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

if  he  did  not  find  it  again.     Frequent  expulsions  by  Indians 
seemed  but  to  renew  his  courage. 

We  spent  our  Thanksgiving  in  Baker  in  1880,  and  there  was 
indeed  much  to  be  thankful  for.  There  were  but  few  bounties  on 
the  table,  and  we  well  remember  how  difficult  it  was  to  dismember 
the  poor  chicken  that  was  served  as  we  thought  of  the  luscious 
brown  turkey  in  the  old  home  oven.  But  we  had  come  through 
many  experiences  with  whole  bodies  and  good  health.     There 


Copyright,  Gifford,  Portland,  Or. 

Sheep  range  among  the  pines  of  Oregon 


had  been  no  serious  casualties  with  us  or  at  home,  and  our  hearts 
were  indeed  full  of  thanksgiving. 

The  ever  charming  feature  of  all  our  travels  on  our  great 
frontier  was  the  hospitality  of  the  people  wherever  we  dropped 
our  hats  for  even  a  day.  It  is  of  course  true  that  the  business 
which  sent  Pard  into  all  these  wilds  was  the  building  of  new  hopes 
and  ambitions  for  the  people  already  there,  and  every  man  was 
glad  to  tell  of  his  acres,  his  sheep  and  cattle,  and  their  increase, 
or  to  tell  of  the  output  of  mines,  the  export  and  import  of  mer- 
chandise, or  explain  any  interests  they  had  that  Pard  might  make 
reports  and  prove  quickly  how  well  it  would  pay  to  build  railroads 


Boise  to  Walla  Walla  via  Baker  City     303 

into  the  vast  territory.  His  business  known,  it  was  an  "open 
sesame"  to  the  best  homes  and  the  best  of  all  the  towns  afforded. 
It  was  like  the  swaying  of  a  magic  wand  and  we  numbered  many 
lifelong  friends  from  those  pioneer  days.  Senator  Teller  and 
Gov.  Adams  of  Colorado;  Senator  Warren  and  Judge  Carey 
of  Wyoming;  Hon.  Tom  Carter,  Col.  W.  F.  Sanders,  and  the 
Fisk  brothers,  Col.  Broadwater  and  others  of  Montana;  Gov. 
Steunenberg,  Congressman  John  Hailey  and  Senator  Shoup,  of 
Idaho;  Chas.  H.  Gleed,  director  and  attorney  for  the  Atchison, 
Topeka  and  Santa  Fe  Railway,  who  was  Pard's  assistant  at  the 
Union  Pacific  headquarters  at  Omaha,  with  many  more  we  fondly 
recall,  were  then  men  in  modest  walks  of  life,  but  with  loyalty  of 
spirit  and  ambition,  and  an  energy  of  purpose  that  has  carried 
them  to  the  leadership  of  the  great  States  which  they  served. 

Powder  River  valley  is  very  productive  of  fruits,  vegetables, 
and  farm  products.  North  of  this  valley,  across  a  low  divide,  is 
the  famous  Grande  Ronde  valley,  which  is  not  only  rich  for 
agricultural  purposes,  but  where  many  thousands  of  cattle  and 
sheep  have  been  raised.  Eastern  Oregon  and  Washington  had 
exported  upwards  of  180,000  head  of  cattle  and  many  thousand 
sheep  the  past  season.  Union,  La  Grande,  and  Pendleton  valleys, 
through  which  we  passed,  were  all  thriving  farming  localities. 

It  had  been  but  two  years  since  the  battle  of  Willow  Springs 
against  the  Piute  and  Bannock  Indians.  All  the  Indians  on  the 
Oregon  frontier  from  the  Blue  Mountains  to  the  Cascades  were  in 
a  bad  temper,  and  they  resolved  to  drive  the  whites  out  of  the 
country.  The  battle  of  Willow  Springs  was  the  first  check 
to  their  depredations  and  it  aroused  a  decided  defence.  The 
Piute  and  Bannock  Indians  had  hoped  to  join  the  Umatillas  and 
the  Yakimas  and  have  a  complete  victory. 

Here,  as  in  other  portions  of  the  West,  the  story  of  its  early 
settlement  is  a  romance  in  which  the  hardy  ranchers  are  the 
heroes,  though  they  claim  no  such  distinction.  To  make  their 
story  interesting  requires  no  coloring,  for  the  simple  picture  of  the 
bunchgrass  plains  and  rimrocked  hills,  with  the  men  who  rode 
over  them  under  burning  suns  or  through  winter's  blizzards,  is  a 
convincing  proof  not  to  be  gainsaid. 

Pendleton  was  the  centre  of  a  large  farming  country  then  as 
now,  with  far  less  population,  and  every  man,  woman,  and  child 
was  taught  the  lesson  of  self-defence.     In  1880  it  was  a  modest 


304         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


village,  with  few  trees  and  a  few  sheltered  lawns,  but  the  start  had 
been  well  made  toward  the  beautiful  town  of  to-day.  We  put 
up  for  the  night  at  the  Foley  House  and,  in  fact,  stopped  over  in 
Pendleton  for  twenty-four  hours.  The  luncheon  menu  we  had 
that  day  was  unique  for  its  orthography  if  nothing  more.  We 
had  "stued  beef,  countery  stile,'*  "German  fride  potatos," 
"stued  cabbage,"  "Appricot  pie,"  and  "Plum  sause." 

Leaving  Pen- 
dleton at  seven 
in  the  morning, 
our  route  was 
directly  north, 
and  for  twenty 
miles  we  rode 
over  the  rich, 
uncultiv  ated 
lands  of  the 
Umatilla  reser- 
vation. Just 
across  Wil  d 
Horse  Creek,  the 
dividing  line  be- 
tween the  red 
man  and  the 
white,  fine  farm- 
houses and  well- 
filled  granaries 
and  storehouses 
proved  plainly  the  value  of  the  soil.  For  miles  and  miles  the 
stubble  of  grain  fields  spread  away  on  every  side,  even  away  up 
over  the  tops  of  the,  foothills,  and  held  out  in  bold  relief  the 
golden  land  against  the  setting  of  the  dark  Blue  mountain  range. 
Soon  after  dinner  the  tall  church  spires  and  flagstaffs  of  Walla 
Walla  rose  in  view  and  by  three  o'clock  we  were  comfortably 
located  in  the  Exchange  Hotel,  after  the  pleasantest  and  quickest 
stage  ride  of  our  whole  experience,  290  miles  from  Boise  City 
and  over  600  miles  from  Ogden,  Utah. 

I  know  of  no  place  prettier  than  Walla  Walla  in  the  mid- 
summer months.  Its  six  thousand  people  moved  like  so  many 
bees  around  a  hive,  and  the  four-story  cut  stone  business  blocks 


Copyright  Lee  Moorehouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon 

Fish  Hawk,  war  chief  of  the  Cayuses 


Boise  to  Walla  Walla  via  Baker  City     305 

were  marvels  of  beauty.  The  neat  and  elegant  homes  were 
embowered  in  shade  trees  and  creeping  vines  that  had  not  yet  lost 
their  summer  leaves  or  colorings. 

Walla  Walla  River  was  six  miles  from  town,  but  pure,  bright, 
sparkling  Mill  Creek  ran  through  the  town,  and,  divided  into  a 
hundred  tiny  rivulets,  it  danced  in  and  out  of  everybody's  garden, 
carrying  coolness  and  fertility  to  every  home.  The  avenues  were 
broad,  well  improved,  and  shaded,  and  there  were  over  five  miles 
of  well-graded  streets. 

Six  thousand  miles  of  staging  had  ended  at  Walla  Walla, 
Washington,  and  we  awoke  next  morning  with  glad  hearts.  For 
a  time  at  least  there  would  be  no  more  "rough  and  tumble"  of 
jostling,  rocking  stage-coaches,  no  more  rising  at  ghostly  hours 
to  take  the  rough  wheeled  vehicles  for  a  jog  along  through  weary 
days  and  nights,  no  more  fear  of  a  sudden  lurch  sending  a  fist 
into  a  neighbor's  eye  or  butting  a  head  against  a  crossrod  or  a 
sidebrace  of  the  lumbering,  clumsy  old  dirt-laden  transportation 
wagon.  No  more  fear  of  a  pitch  down  a  steep  mountainside  or 
of  being  stuck  in  a  mudhole. 

How  much  it  meant  all  over  the  West  to  hear  that  cry 
"Stage!"  The  sonorous  voice  of  the  stage  driver,  the  clatter  of 
hoofs,  the  creak  of  heavy  brakes,  and  the  grinding  wheels  as 
they  bumped  into  the  sidewalk,  gave  notice  of  the  arrival  of  the 
daily  mail  and  passengers.  All  over  the  western  country  it  was 
the  same  great  event  of  the  day.  Hotel  lobbies  and  sidewalks 
were  full  of  loiterers  waiting  for  some  kind  of  news  to  spread 
through  the  town,  and  the  idle  curious  to  see  who  was  aboard. 

The  blankets  and  robes  were  tumbled  out  upon  the  side- 
walk with  a  vigorous  shove  and  perchance  a  little  kick  of  joy 
to  help  them  along.  It  had  been  a  hard  and  toilsome  journey, 
mingled  with  manifold  joys  and  pleastu-es,  the  troubles  to  be  for 
gotten  and  the  pleasures  to  live  always  in  our  memories.  Our 
ways  were  generally  those  of  peace  but  we  had  at  times  the  gay 
red  men  on  our  trail. 

Over  mountains  and  through  the  vales,  through  dense  forests 
and  broad  open  plains,  through  rivers  untold  and  forest  fires, 
through  sunshine  and  storm,  through  mud  and  dust,  with  com- 
panions of  all  nationalities,  and  experiences  unrivalled  by  any  of 
my  sex,  we  had  reached  a  point  of  rest.  We  bade  a  long  farewell 
to  the  "six-in-hand"  and  the  characteristic  stage  driver,  whose 

90 


3o6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

oddities  and  peculiarities  had  ever  been  an  amusing  study,  and 
whose  eccentricities  would  fill  a  volume,  and  put  him  in  a  class  as 
distinct  as  a  race  itself. 

For  a  time  at  least  we  would  be  far  enough  from  warring  In- 
dians to  rest  in  peace  and  tranquillity,  without  the  fear  that  every 
red  man  we  saw  was  on  the  warpath,  and  whose  image  was  dis- 
torted by  the  eye  of  fear. 

Yet  all  at  once  the  thought  came  with  a  rush  that  sent  me 
reeling  with  homesickness,  of  the  long  distance  between  us  and 
home,  and  either  that  arduous,  toilsome  stage  ride  or  the  long 


A  Umatilla  ranger 


slow  trip  by  water  loomed  up  like  an  unscalable  wall.  But  Pard 
never  gave  opportunities  for  such  feelings  to  get  rooted.  He  was 
qmck  to  dissipate  troubles,  ever  looking  on  the  bright  side,  and  it 
was  always  his  pleasure,  as  soon  as  he  found  a  comfortable  place 
for  me  to  rest,  to  skirmish  out  for  reading  matter  and  writing 
materials,  and  have  my  wants  supplied  before  he  started  in  on  his 
rounds.  This  done,  it  was  always  his  greatest  delight  to  work ; 
he  was  an  indefatigable  worker  and  never  stopped  for  an  hour's 
rest  if  the  time  was  propitious  for  doing  things.  If  ever  a  man 
earned  laurels,  he  certainly  did  during  our  days  of  pioneering, 
when  Jay  Gould,  Sidney  Dillon,  and  Thomas  L.  Kimball  were 
the  leading  spirits  of  the  Union  Pacific,  and  they  were  as  proud 
of  him  and  his  work  as  I  was. 


I 


Boise  to  Walla  Walla  via  Baker  City     307 

Speaking  of  Sidney  Dillon  reminds  me  of  an  amusing  incident 
that  happened  on  a  train  coming  west  from  Omaha. 

President  Dillon's  private  car  was  attached  to  the  train,  and  at 
a  junction  point  where  the  train  was  delayed  he  strolled  up  and 
down  the  station  platform  and  attracted  much  attention  by  his 
New  York  air  of  simple  elegance.  He  was  a  fine-looking  man, 
always  faultlessly  dressed  and  groomed,  his  white  "Burnsides" 
seemed  to  make  his  face  look  younger,  and  his  smile  was  good  to 
see.  There  was  a  little  weazen-faced  woman  sitting  opposite  to 
me,  a  typical  New  England  old  maid,  who  looked  as  if  she  had 
been  saying  "prunes  and  prisms "  all  her  life,  and  had  enjoyed  but 
meagre  pleasure.  I  turned  and  told  her  who  the  fine-looking 
man  was  attracting  so  much  notice  but  instead  of  looking  out  of 
the  window  she  deliberately  turned  her  back  to  it,  puckered  up 
her  prim  little  mouth,  gave  her  head  a  little  toss,  crossed  her 
hands,  and  said  "  I  don't  know  him." 

With  time  to  catch  my  breath  at  Walla  Walla,  I  began  to 
figure  out  what  we  had  been  doing.  The  year  1880  was  nearing 
a  close,  and  with  it  numbered  three  thousand  miles  more  of  stage 
travel  for  us,  or  six  thousand  miles  in  all  since  we  started  out  on 
such  adventurous  experiences  only  three  years  before.  We  had 
run  about  the  whole  gamut  of  exploration — the  great  stock  ranges, 
the  profoundest  forests,  the  broad  grain  lands,  and  the  varied 
attractions  for  the  pleasure  or  health  seeker,  with  everything 
else  that  could  have  any  possible  bearing  on  future  transportation 
interests.  These  things  were  gone  into  with  a  "fine  tooth  comb," 
as  Pard  sometimes  put  it.  Mines  of  the  base  or  precious  metals 
were  everywhere,  and  down  in  the  heart  of  mother-earth  we  had 
explored  hundreds  of  them.  By  winze  and  ropes  and  tunnels  we 
had  followed  the  gold,  copper,  and  lead  hidden  in  rocky  rifts  or 
sandy  bed,  or  yet  again  from  its  black  soft  blanket  of  porphyry, 
out  into  the  sunlight  and  through  arastra,  crusher,  amalgamator, 
or  smelter  to  the  bright  coins  of  commerce.  The  advantage  of 
future  rail  routes,  or  even  of  more  stage  lines,  was  nowhere 
overlooked. 

We  had  come  through  it  all  with  life,  health,  and  experience 
worth  more  than  tongue  can  tell;  yet,  as  it  turned  out,  we  were 
only  well  started,  so  no  wonder  the  few  days'  rest  in  the  quiet 
little  town  of  Walla  Walla  was  a  boon  to  be  craved — to  rest,  to 
think,  to  write  of  what  we  had  seen. 


3o8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

It  was  a  great  surprise  to  find  all  classes  of  goods  lower  in  price 
than  anywhere  farther  inland,  but  it  was  because  of  its  nearness 
to  tidewater.  The  people  were  bright,  intelligent,  and  pleasant 
to  meet,  but  not  with  the  ambitious  and  progressive  natures  of 


Copyright  Lee  Moorehouse,  Pendleton,  Oregon 

"White  Bull  spent  his  allotment  of  seven  thousand  dollars 

in  six  weeks,  then  went  to  sleep  on  the  railroad 

and  ended  his  career  " 

other  places  we  had  visited.  The  feeling  of  self  satisfaction, 
possessing  the  thought  that  Walla  Walla  was  the  hub  of  the  uni- 
verse, was  like  the  old  feeling  of  the  Bostonian  for  his  beloved 
Boston. 

As  we  continued  down  the  coast  then  and  afterward  we 
learned  that  it  was  a  disease  from  which  the  whole  population  of 
our  Pacific  lands  was  suffering  to  such  an  extent  that  they  would 


Boise  to  Walla  Walla  via  Baker  City     309 

sniff  and  snuff  at  the  bare  suggestion  of  another  coast  of  equal 
magnitude  on  the  east  side  of  our  continent.  The  Pacific  Coast 
people  think  there  is  no  other  country  worth  mentioning  in  the 
whole  world.  Loyalty  to  one's  home  and  country  is  one  of  the 
most  commendable  virtues  when  it  does  not  carry  one  into 
bigotry  and  perverse  ignorance,  but  most  Pacific  Coasters  in 
those  days  did  go  to  the  limit. 

I  was  revelling  in  the  thought  of  hardships  over  for  a  time 
when  Pard  came  in  with  the  news  that  we  must  nerve  ourselves 
for  one  more  hard  trip,  and  do  it  quickly,  for  the  season  was 
getting  late.  We  must  make  a  hurried  trip  to  Lewiston  and 
Spokane  Falls  before  going  on  down  to  Portland. 

Travelling  in  the  mountains  by  stage  is  ever  a  joy.  Every 
mile  reveals  some  new  scenic  wonder  that  repays  the  hardships, 
but  when  dragging  along  through  long  stretches  of  sand  and  alkali 
flats  the  time  and  the  distance  is  endless  to  the  weary  traveller. 
The  very  horizon  seems  ever  to  be  an  eminence  from  which  one 
should  see  the  end  of  the  journey,  but  that  eminence  is  as  far 
away  as  the  mirage  of  Death  Valley,  for  it  is  always  just  ahead  and 
never  reached.  All  of  southern  Idaho  had  that  delusive  expanse, 
without  a  tree  or  green  field  worthy  of  the  name.  Along  that 
great  highway,  with  its  dust  clouds  and  ashes  and  black  lava 
beds,  a  story  of  sorrow  and  suffering  is  often  told  by  a  pile  of  stones 
or  a  cross  by  the  wayside.  I  felt  as  if  the  end  of  the  tether  had 
been  reached  when  we  were  rolled  out  of  the  coach  at  Walla 
Walla,  and  to  make  the  trip  to  Spokane  Falls  required  a  renewal 
of  courage  and  endurance  that  was  hard  to  summon;  but  a  few 
days'  rest  kindled  life  anew  and  hastened  us  on  our  way,  to  cover 
this  unexpected  five  hundred  mile  round  trip  by  stage  and 
horseback. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

SPOKANE  FALLS,  MEDICAL  LAKE.  AND  BEAUTIFUL  LAKE 
CGEUR  D'ALENE 


HE  Northern 
Pacific  began 
laying  rails 
northeast  from 
Wallula  to  Spo- 
kane in  the  fall 
of  1879  but  the 
work  was  very 
slowly  pushed 
that  year  and  even 
in  1880  the  quickest  way  to  make  the  trip  from  Walla  Walla  to 
Spokane  was  by  stage  via  Pomeroy  and  Colfax.  Another  way 
was  by  Pomeroy  on  to  Lewiston  and  down  Snake  River  to 
Almota  and  then  by  stage  again  to  Colfax  and  Spokane  Falls. 

The  season  was  getting  late  and  though  time  was  precious  we 
took  the  longer  route  by  Lewiston.  It  was  an  interesting  town 
because  it  was  the  first  capital  of  Idaho  and  because  of  its  location 
at  the  junction  of  the  Snake  and  Clearwater  rivers  with  towering 
bluffs  rising  more  than  two  thousand  feet  above.  The  town  was 
also  at  the  head  of  navigation  and  that  seemed  to  be  its  best 
excuse  for  existence  at  that  time,  although  the  vast  mineral, 
forest,  and  agricultural  resources  that  have  since  been  developed 
prove  that  the  founders  builded  better  than  they  knew. 

Its  early  settlers  were  the  same  restless  pioneers  who  are  the 
forerunners  of  civilization  everywhere — the  searchers  for  gold 
and  lovers  of  adventure  who  are  carried  on  wings  of  avarice, 
romance,  adventure,  and  discovery  and  even  fairy  tales,  to  the 
remotest  corners  of  the  earth. 

How  glorious  the  experience  of  riding  on  the  great  river 
which  we  had  watched  from  its  birth  in  trickling  rivulets  to  the 

310 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         311 

majesty  of  the  seventh  great  artery  of  commerce !    As  romancers 
we,  too,  sat  on  the  steamer  deck  and  revelled  in  the  sweet  air  of 


Our  ferryboat  at  Lewiston  which  had  been  running  ever  since  1859 

the  uplands  free  from  dust  and  grime  and  jolting  chuck-holes 
of  the  stage  highway. 


Much  of  its  course  ran  through  magnificent  canyons  of  its  own  carving ' 


Few  had  tried  to  follow  the  winding  course  of  Snake  River 
through  its  wild  and  forbidding  extents  of  lava  and  the  lifeless 
desert  that  bordered  it.     Much  of  its  course  ran  through  magnifi- 


312         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

cent  canyons  of  its  own  carving  where  upheavals  of  earth  had 
added  to  the  indescribable  chaos  of  fantastic  masses  of  melted 
rocks,  of  peaks  and  precipices.  Then,  too,  for  nearly  its  entire 
length  a  treeless  land  completes  the  barren  waste  of  the  Snake 
River  desert.  For  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  there  is  not  a 
stream  that  runs  into  it  from  the  south. 

When  it  reaches  the  Washington  state  line  it  loses  much  of 
its  wildness  and  more  gently  rolling  lands  add  a  seductive  induce- 
ment to  settlers.     After  its   junction  with  the  Clearwater  for 


Grain  chute  from  the  uplands  down  to  the  river 

a  time  its  basaltic  walls  are  the  most  imposing  and  colossal  of 
all  its  course;  then  the  last  hundred  miles  before  its  junction 
with  the  Columbia  it  runs  on  through  what  is  now  the  greatest 
wheat  belt  in  the  world. 

Even  in  1880  wheat  was  raised  along  the  river  and  one  of  the 
most  interesting  sights  of  the  trip  was  the  loading  of  wheat  on  the 
steamboats  from  the  bluffs  through  flumes  or  chutes  that  were 
two  and  three  thousand  feet  long.  In  the  experimental  stage  of 
thus  handling  wheat  it  was  ground  into  unbolted  flour  by  its 
own  velocity  and  weight  by  the  time  it  reached  the  boat,  but  that 
trouble  was  soon  rectified  by  making  checks  in  its  downward 
course  in  such  a  way  that  the  grain  was  made  to  clean  itself  in  the 
race  and  flow  into  the  boat  bins  in  prime  order. 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         313 

From  Almota  to  Colfax  overland  was  but  a  short  trip  and 
there  we  considered  the  quickest  way  to  accomplish  the  Spo- 
kane Falls  trip  to  the  best  advantage.  We  had  already  used 
four  days  since  leaving  Walla  Walla,  and  days  were  precious 
when  winter  was  coming  on. 

Saddle  horses  and  a  couple  of  packs  with  a  good  guide  were 
sent  on  ahead  to  make  a  camp  near  Spokane  River,  and  we  fol- 
lowed on  the  Kinnear  Stage.     In  that  way  we  lost  no  time  in 


City  of  Spokane  Falls  in  the  early  eighties 


getting  into  the  saddles  and  riding  among  the  beautiful  hills  and 
dales  and  lakes  around  Spokane  Falls. 

The  weather  was  glorious  in  spite  of  the  lateness  of  the  sea- 
son. Our  greatest  difficulty  was  in  crossing  some  of  the  streams 
which  owing  to  some  unusually  heavy  rains  were  badly  swollen. 
There  were  few  bridges  in  those  days,  and  it  was  a  case  of  sink  or 
swim  at  some  crossings,  and  when  we  found  a  ferry,  however 
primitive  it  was  a  luxury  to  be  thankful  for.  Fording  unknown 
streams  were  events  to  dread  however  confidently  the  road  led 
down  to  them  or  marked  the  farther  shore.  Mountain  streams 
with  their  delusive  clearness  were  always  deceptive  in  depth,  and 
I  generally  curled  up  squaw  fashion  on  the  saddle  in  the  hopes  of 


314        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


keeping  dry.  I  had  my  lesson  in  Colorado  in  going  over  the 
horse's  head  when  he  jerked  the  bridle  from  my  hand  as  we  went 
down  a  steep  incline  and  he  suddenly  bent  his  head  to  drink.  I 
went  after  the  bridle  into  the  stream,  which  fortunately  was  not 
deep,  but  it  was  awfully  wet.  The  cunning  horse  did  not  even 
stop  drinking,  but  he  blinked  his  eyes  at  me  as  if  he  enjoyed  the 
situation. 

The  virgin  grandeur  and  beauty  of  the  Spokane  country 
appealed  to  us  as  no  other  place  had  done  in  all  our  travels.  The 
little  village  of  four  hundred  or  five  hundred  people  straggling  over 
the  parklike  openings  among  the  pines  impressed  us  as  one  of 

the   most  pictur- 
~^^:mailtiSSUlltM  esque    in    America. 

As  we  stood  on  the 
banks  of  the  beauti- 
ful river  and  saw  its 
wonderful  falls  with 
the  magnificent  val- 
ley, its  rich  bunch- 
grass  carpet  then 
yellow  as  gold  in  its 
autumn  garb  and  re- 
called the  vast  grain- 
land  empire  stretch- 
ing to  the  southeast  and  southwest,  the  wonderful  mines  opening 
up  nearby  on  the  east,  the  ample  forests,  and  the  possibilities 
for  power,  the  majesty  of  the  situation  made  Pard  declare  that 
"Here  will  be  the  greatest  inland  city  of  the  whole  Northwest." 
How  little  he  then  knew  his  untiring  energy  and  unflagging  faith 
would  make  him  one  of  the  greatest  promoters  of  the  end  he 
prophesied  and  that  as  President  of  an  important  railway  com- 
pany he  would  so  materially  add  to  the  city's  transportation 
facilities. 

We  took  most  of  our  meals  at  a  small  hotel  near  the  river, 
called  the  California,  but  spent  very  little  time  in  the  town.  We 
made  the  trip  on  horseback  out  to  Medical  Lake  and  bathed  in 
the  soft  soapy  water  which  was  delightful;  also  northward  to 
the  entrancing  Little  Spokane  with  its  frowning  battlements  and 
myriad  of  wondrous  springs.  It  was  impossible  to  tarry  long 
anywhere  though  the  banks  of  the  rivers  and  the  shores  of  the 


Old  Hudson  Bay  post  near  Spokane 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         315 

lakes  were  seductive  with  their  enchanting  beauty  and  the  echo- 
ing anthem  of  the  various  waterfalls.  The  unfettered  Spokane 
laughed  in  jubilant  defiance  of  restraint  as  we  built  an  imaginary- 
city  along  its  shores,  little  dreaming  how  soon  the  dream  would 
come  true. 

The  Northern  Pacific  Railroad  was  coming  slowly  toward 
this  inland  mecca  of  the  Northwest  but  it  did  not  reach  the  goal 
until  June,  i88 1 ,  and  not  until  September,  1883,  were  the  East  and 
West  made  one  with  the  connecting  spike  driven  by  Henry  Villard 
at  Deer  Lodge,  Montana.      There  was  a  great  deal  of  rivalry 


The  Lower  Falls  of  Spokane  River 


between  Spokane  Falls  and  Cheney  with  the  advantage  in  favor 
of  Spokane  because  of  the  great  waterpower  and  the  splendid 
citizenship  already  making  itself  apparent.  Such  honored  resi- 
dents as  J.  J.  Browne,  Samuel  Hyde,  Judge  L.  B.  Nash,  and  J. 
N.  Glover  were  then,  as  now,  most  effective  workers  for  Spokane, 
as  was  the  lamented  A.  M.  Cannon.  Mr.  Glover  had  a  saw  mill 
on  the  south  side  of  the  river  between  the  falls,  and  was  also 
doing  a  thriving  trade  with  the  Indians.  Spokane  Falls  and  forty 
acres  of  ground  from  Front  Avenue  to  Broadway  and  from  Post 
to  Monroe,  now  the  very  heart  of  the  city,  were  donated  by  Mr. 
Glover  to  one  Frederick  Post  to  insure  the  establishment  of  a 
flouring  mill.  Of  all  that  land  Mr.  Glover  reserved  but  one 
block,  and  that  now  contains  the  Spokane  Auditorium  Theatre 
building.  One  of  our  diversions  at  Spokane  was  an  exciting 
Indian  horserace  on  the  racecourse  then  used,  which  extended 


3i6        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

from  about  the  present  location  of  the  famous  Davenport  Res- 
taurant to  a  point  well  out  toward  Browne's  Addition. 

The  Indian,  Curly  Jim,  was  a  character  of  the  locality  in 
those  days  the  same  as  in  this  latter  century.  He  was  an  intelli- 
gent young  buck  and  at  times  induced  prospectors  to  tie  him 
and  bring  him  into  town  as  a  bad  Indian  just  for  the  fun  of  hear- 
ing what  the  people  would  say  when  they  learned  it  was  just 
"Curly  Jim." 

The  most  humane  lot  of  Indians  I  have  known  are  on  reser- 
vations around  North  Yakima  in  the  State  of  Washington.  They 
are  a  happy-go-lucky  lot,  most  of  whom  have  acquired  a  wealth 
of  ponies  or  of  lands  and  on  festival  days  they  make  Yakima  the 
most  picturesque  city  in  the  United  States.  If  you  nod  to  one 
of  them  as  you  pass  he  instantly  shows  his  teeth  in  a  broad  smile. 
Their  saddle  trappings  and  bridles,  their  beaded  gauntlets,  their 
embroidered  vests,  their  gaily  colored  blankets,  tell  of  the  love 
for  bright  sunny  colorings,  and  happy  dispositions  are  usually 
the  counterpart  of  such  gay  trappings.  They  have  their  own 
homes,  many  own  carriages,  and  all  own  horses.  The  squaw^ 
mother  sits  on  a  horse  with  her  papoose  fastened  in  front  with 
a  sort  of  diamond  hitch  that  she  gets  on  the  blankets  that  are 
wound  about  her  own  body  and  limbs,  and  also  holds  the  child 
secure.  Often  from  a  window  in  the  hotel  have  I  watched  them 
come  by  the  hundreds  into  the  vacant  lots  close  by  and  mount 
or  dismount,  tie  their  ponies,  and  primp  themselves  before  going 
out  on  the  street,  and  again  pack  themselves  and  their  be- 
longings on  their  ponies  for  the  homeward  trip.  Some  scoured 
the  town  for  what  they  could  beg,  even  though  they  were  not 
destitute,  and  when  they  bought  blankets  they  were  most  critical 
regarding  quality  and  colors.  They  are  not  a  menace  to  the 
town  but  a  valuable  attraction  and  a  necessity  in  the  field  of 
labor.  They  excel  in  hop-picking,  berry -picking,  and  in  gathering 
fruits,  but  they  have  less  regard  for  morals  than  most  of  the  wilder 
tribes  have. 

The  warriors  of  the  middle  States  are  being  gradually  pushed 
into  the  far  West  and  the  picturesqueness  of  all  this  Pacific  North- 
west is  being  narrowed  down  to  a  last  dwelling  place.  It  will 
not  be  many  years  before  all  their  old  time  environments  will 
be  obliterated  and  the  onward  move  of  civilization  will  cover 
the  ground  with  homes  of  white  men.     Indian  legends  will  form 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         317 

but  a  mental  picture  no  longer  verified  by  living  examples,  but 
surrounded  by  a  halo  of  mystery  and  a  shadowy  sense  of  the 
mythical  that  lies  beyond  the  pale  of  our  own  lives.  There  have 
been  noted  chiefs  who  have  had  many  characteristics  of  royalty. 
Cleanly  of  mind  and  body,  honorable,  brave,  and  valiant,  their 
presence  imposed  a  personal  magnetism  and  hypnotism  not  to 
be  denied.  Such  were  Spotted  Tail  and  Sitting  Bull  of  the  Sioux, 
Chief  Moses  of  the  Nez  Perces,  and  many  others. 


"Fort  Sherman  was  the  most  attractive  spot  for  an  army  post  that  one 

could  imagine." 

Fort  Sherman  had  been  established  about  two  years  on  Lake 
Cceur  d'Alene  and  my  remembrance  is  that  a  man  named  King 
owned  the  stage  line  running  from  Spokane  Falls  to  Lake  Coeur 
d'Alene  and  Fort  Sherman,  but  we  went  out  there  on  horseback, 
noting  the  store  of  M.  M.  Cowley  at  Spokane  Bridge  and  a  few 
houses  at  Post  Falls  as  the  only  habitations  where  now  the  valley 
teems  with  its  cozy  homes,  fruitful  orchards,  and  a  half  dozen  rail- 
way lines.  Fort  Sherman  was  the  most  attractive  spot  for  an 
army  post  that  one  could  imagine  and  it  was  a  great  pity  to 
have  it  abandoned  in  later  years. 


3i8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  Coeur  d'Alene  mines  had  begun  to  make  history  in  as 
thrilling  and  interesting  a  way  as  Butte  or  Leadville.  There  was 
a  Territorial  tax  of  five  dollars  a  month  on  alien  miners  for  five 
months  of  the  year,  and  it  was  a  source  of  enormous  revenue. 
It  was  devised  at  first  to  keep  out  the  Chinamen  but  it  was  not 
a  successful  ruse. 

It  was  not  until  after  1880  that  marked  development  began  in 
the  Coeur  d'Alene,  but  there  is  an  old  piano  that  is  still  in  use  in 
Mullen  that  was  taken  there  in  the  seventies.  It  has  been  through 
half  a  dozen  fires,  packed  over  mountain  trails,  accidentally  slid 
into  many  a  gushing  stream,  and  after  being  fished  out  was 


The  old  Mission  on  Coeur  d'Alene  River. 

"thumped"  by  some  disciple  of  Mozart  just  as  usual.  Until 
recently  it  was  the  standby  for  balls  and  parties.  Fourth  of  July 
and  St.  Patrick's  day  frivolities.  Every  once  in  a  while  "Mag, " 
as  the  instrument  is  called,  is  pressed  into  requisition  and  the 
cobwebs  shaken  from  its  chords.  Its  original  cost,  when  pur- 
chased from  J.  B.  Nugent  of  New  York,  is  said  to  have  been  in 
the  neighborhood  of  $2500. 

The  first  boats  on  Lake  Coeur  d'Alene  for  traffic  ran  from 
Coeur  d'Alene  City,  or  rather  Fort  Sherman,  to  the  old  Mission, 
carrying  supplies  and  prospectors  and  returning  with  hay  for  the 
Government.  The  freight  rate  on  the  first  load  of  hay  for  the 
thirty-eight  miles  from  what  is  now  called  Kingston  to  Farming- 
ton,  on  the  lake,  was  $40  per  ton. 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         3^9 

A  great  deal  of  freight  and  many  passengers  were  poled  up 
the  north  fork  of  the  Coeur  d'Alene  in  dugouts  and  bateaux,  at  a 
cost  of  twenty-five  cents  per  pound  to Hummel's Landing.  From 
there  freight  was  hauled  by  dog  trains  into  Eagle  City,  a  distance 
of  three  miles,  at  the  cost  of  five  cents  per  pound,  or  a  total  cost 
of  $100  per  ton.  The  three  mile  haul  on  sleds  drawn  by  dogs 
from  Hummel's  Landing  to  Eagle  City  cost  the  same  price  as 
freight  from  Chicago  to  Wallace,  Idaho,  a  distance  of  2000  miles, 
at  the  present  time. 

Some  ten  thousand  people  went  in  to  Eagle  City  in  a  season; 


Pph 

^  f^^fl 

■iriflk^vili 

Il       IJ    1' 

ill'    i 

\         HT         ^rr^i*»§r>^^ 

^^^^^^^^^P""fi'''''^    '^'                                       '^^M 

Copyright  Detroit  Photo  Co. 


Jim  Wardner's  pack  train  of  1884 


many  were  without  either  shack  or  blanket.  Living  was  very 
high,  flour  was  a  dollar  a  pound,  and  bacon  sixty  to  eighty  cents. 
In  the  spring  of  '84  pack  trains  began  going  in  and  greatly 
reduced  all  transportation  rates.  Jim  Wardner  was  then  in  the 
mercantile  business  with  the  firm  of  Wardner  and  Blossom  at 
Murray,  and  ultimately  bought  and  operated  the  first  pack  train 
brought  into  the  Coeur  d'Alenes,  but  if  there  was  anything  from 
a  pack  train  to  gold  bearing  tradewinds  that  Jim  Wardner  did 
not  attempt  to  handle  after  that  it  was  because  he  never  heard 
of  it,  or  could  not  imagine  it.  He  was  a  wild  cat  operator  even 
to  having  a  black  cat  ranch  where  it  was  said  he  raised  the  felines 
for  their  fur. 


320        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Mail  was  carried  on  a  man's  back  from  Cceur  d'Alene  City  to 
Eagle  by  Fourth  of  July  Canyon,  or  the  old  Mullen  road  to  Evolu- 
tion. The  postage  on  a  letter  was  twenty-five  cents,  and  news- 
papers were  too  heavy  and  bulky  to  carry  at  any  price.  But 
that  too  was  changed  in  the  summer  of  '84. 

Many  of  Spokane's  wealthiest  citizens  have  drawn  their  for- 
tunes from  Cceur  d'Alene's  famous  mi;ies.     Among  them  are 

Patrick  Clark,  A.  B.  Camp- 
bell, John  A.  Finch,  Charles 
Sweeny,  Warren  Hussey,  and 
Frank  Culbertson,  while  hun- 
dreds of  others  have  made 
more  modest  fortunes  there 
since  the  first  of  1880. 

It  is  a  country  with  more 
romance  and  tragedy  than 
any  other  in  American  min- 
ing history.  Those  who  went 
into  that  district  in  the  early 
'8o's  after  our  first  visit  are  full 
of  reminiscences  of  thrilling 
experiences  of  humor  and 
tragedy,  from  locating  "pro- 
spects" by  a  borrowed  mule 
and  thereby  making  the 
owner  of  the  mule  a  partner 
in  the  mine,  to  starvation  in 
snowbound  cabins  and  death  by  bullets  on  disputed  claims  or 
in  labor  riots. 

Our  return  trip  to  Colfax  was  made  entirely  in  the  saddle, 
and  it  was  one  of  the  trips  that  will  never  be  forgotten  for  it  wove 
in  a  series  of  mishaps  from  start  to  finish.  We  stopped  at  Cannon 
and  Warner's  store  to  get  a  few  supplies,  then  galloped  out  of 
town  with  all  the  zest  of  winter  hunted  travellers.  Every  cloud 
had  been  watched  and  pleaded  with  for  a  week,  and  now  to  make 
our  down  boat  before  a  freeze-up  was  a  great  incentive  to  speed. 
Spokane  Falls  was  the  crossroads  for  all  Indian  tribes  of  the 
surrounding  country.  The  Indians  were  as  plentiful  as  the  dust, 
and  as  there  had  been  some  bad  Indian  scares  recently  we  had 
watched  for  the  truants  among  them  all  the  way  from  Colfax  as 


Our  Tillicums  on  the  shadowy  St.  Joe 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         321 

well  as  in  our  horseback  riding  around  Spokane.  Our  guide  had 
told  us  there  was  little  to  fear  from  them  any  more  because  white 
folks  were  coming  in  so  fast.  We  became  separated  from  him 
and  our  pack  on  the  return  in  the  hope  of  gaining  some  time  but 
we  got  off  the  road  somewhere  near  some  springs  north  of  Span- 
gle and  ran  into  a  migratory  band  of  the  savages.  Escape  from 
them  was  impossible  at  the  moment.  The  Indian  wars  were 
apparently  over,  but  fearing  peace  had  not  yet  full  control  of  the 
red  man's  breast,  we  realized  our  situation  might  possibly  be 
serious.  We  were  urgently  invited  to  dismount  and  reluctantly 
obeyed  the  signs.  Our  guide  was  to  keep  watch  of  our  trail  and 
we  knew  he  would  soon  be  after  us  and  we  tried  to  make  the 


"Spokane  Falls  was  the  crossroads  for  all  the  Indian  tribes  in  the  country" 

Indians  understand  that  other  white  men  were  coming.  They 
looked  longingly  at  our  ponies  and  seemed  much  interested  in 
some  of  their  trappings.  The  camp  was  small  in  size  and  num- 
bers but  it  was  large  in  odors  of  fish  and  smoke  and  filth  so 
inseparable  from  the  Indians. 

The  young  bucks  stroked  the  ponies  on  their  flanks  and  talked 
rapidly  in  their  own  tongue  while  making  themselves  familiar 
with  the  trappings  about  the  saddles.  One  big  buck  was  squeez- 
ing all  the  saddle  bags  and  all  of  them  made  signs  by  pointing  to 
the  mouth  and  tipping  the  head  back.  We  thought  they  were  after 
whiskey  and  by  signs  and  words  kept  repeating  that  we  had  none 
at  all.  But  they  were  not  satisfied  and  opened  everything  up 
until  they  got  to  the  little  medicine  case,  and  the  big  fellow  gave 
several  grunts  and  pointed  to  a  tepee  and  made  us  go  over  there. 
Inside  his  squaw  was  writhing  in  agony  but  I  did  not  dare  give 

21 


322         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

her  anything  and  shook  my  head  again.  The  old  buck  began  to 
look  pretty  ugly,  and  his  manner  was  so  imperative  that  I  finally 
took  the  case,  doled  out  a  large  dose  of  bicarbonate  of  soda  and 
with  many  flourishes  of  doing  some  wonderful  thing  I  gave  her 
the  simple  dope.  If  I  ever  sent  up  an  earnest  prayer  for  help  I 
did  it  then,  for  when  medicine  men  fail  among  Indian  tribes 
it  is  a  serious  matter  and  often  means  death  to  the  doctor.  We 
had  not  long  to  wait  for  the  medicine  came  up  again  in  short 
order  and  brought  relief  to  the  favorite  of  the  camp.  All  we 
could  understand  as  the  Indians  muttered  among  themselves 
was  the  one  word  "Skookum"  and  we  heard  that  so  often  that 
we  knew  the  spell  had  worked.  I  then  started  to  put  up  the  case 
when  the  big  buck  came  and  took  the  bottle  of  soda,  and  he  would 
not  give  it  back  to  me.  I  begged  for  it  as  if  it  were  a  precious 
parcel  and  the  more  I  begged  the  more  determined  his  "ugh! 
ugh!"  and  the  shake  of  his  head. 

Just  then  we  heard  a  far  away  call  from  our  guide  and  his  clear 
"hoo-hoo"  rang  out  like  an  echo  from  the  sky.  We  hurriedly 
mounted  our  horses  and  were  surprised  that  the  Indians  made  not 
the  slightest  objection.  A  lot  of  their  own  ponies  were  grazing 
close  by  and  we  wondered  what  mischief  they  were  planning. 
Pard  was  just  raising  his  whip  to  get  a  quick  start  when  the 
big  Indian  grabbed  the  bridle  and  motioned  with  his  hand  to 
wait. 

He  turned  about  and  said:  "Spokane?"  and  we  nodded  yes. 
Then  he  pointed  to  the  sun  and  made  a  circle  under  the  earth  and 
to  the  point  overhead  which  meant  the  next  day  at  noon,  then  he 
pointed  to  himself  and  said  "Spokane"  again.  He  then  pointed 
out  five  or  six  ponies  in  a  line  and  two  blankets,  and  continued 
"white  squaw,  me  buy."  As  near  as  we  could  make  out  he 
said  he  would  be  in  Spokane  at  noon  the  next  day  to  buy  white 
squaw,  meaning  me,  and  would  give  so  many  ponies  and  blankets 
to  Pard.  Then  he  gave  Pard's  horse  such  a  blow  on  the  flank 
that  it  needed  no  further  coaxing  to  get  under  good  headway,  and 
we  made  the  back  trail  as  fast  as  we  could  go. 

We  still  feared  treachery  for  they  were  mounting  their  ponies 
and  as  soon  as  we  were  out  of  the  camp  Pard  said:  " Now,  Dell, 
we  must  ride  like  the  devil  and  get  out  of  this. "  We  soon  met 
the  guide  who  was  neither  choice  nor  complimentary  in  his  lan- 
guage used  at  our  escapade  and  he  threw  a  lash  around  the  heels 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         323 

of  the  pack  animals  to  give  greater  vent  to  his  feelings  as  we  ran 
on  through  the  ravine. 

That  swerving  from  the  main  line  did  not  take  more  than 
two  or  three  hours'  time  but  we  found  a  bridle  had  been  cut  and 


"  If  ever  I  sent  up  an  earnest  prayer  for  help  I  did  it  then " 

other  delays  followed  which  made  us  late  in  reaching  Colfax, 
and  too  late  for  the  boat  to  Wallula.  We  had  to  ferry  Snake 
River  and  go  by  stage  via  Pomeroy  to  Walla  Walla  again. 

All  that  region  is  now  as  far  removed  from  its  virgin  condition 
as  its  people  are  different  from  the  wild  race  who  once  inhabited 
it.     The  most  splendid  inland  city  of  the  West  fills  the  valley 


324         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

and  crowns  the  bluffs  overlooking  the  falls.  Hills  are  no  longer 
covered  with  wild  Indian  ponies,  and  peppered  with  arrow  heads, 
but  in  their  stead  are  miles  upon  miles  of  fruitful  orchards  and 
willowy  grain,  with  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  and  the  whole 


-^^^ 


The  beautiful  Falls  of  the  Palouse 


domain  so  covered  with  other  thriving  cities  and  villages,  with 
steam  and  electric  communications,  that  distances  are  obliterated 
and  there  is  no  more  country. 

It  may  seem  strange  that  so  little  has  been  said  in  all  these 
adventures  about  the  most  important  of  Pard's  missions.  His 
confidential  arrangement  to  carefully  examine  various  routes 
and  regions  with  reference  to  railway  extensions  and  possible 


Spokane  Falls  and  Medical  Lake         325 

tonnage  was  a  most  laborious  task.  It  was  a  matter  of  vast 
concern  during  the  many  years  covered  by  this  narrative.  Most 
of  the  work  was  veiled  under  the  popular  guise  of  the  hunt  for 
statistics  to  induce  immigration.  Few  knew  with  what  zeal 
and  care  the  railroad  builders  of  our  day  have  every  possible 
factor  examined,  sifted,  checked,  and  weighed  often  before  even 
an  engineer  or    right-of-way  man  is  consulted.    While  Pard's 


The  awe-inspiring  canyon  of  the  Palouse  on  the  Oregon- Washington 
Raihroad  and  Navigation  line 


usual  work  never  ceased  other  things  were  doing,  and  some  of  the 
best  known  and  most  profitable  railway  lines  in  the  West  were 
hatched  during  those  long  tedious  trips  across  the  frontier.  It 
was  a  great  secret  then  and  the  whole  West  has  learned  in  later 
years  that  Pard  can  keep  a  secret  so  well  that  he  has  become 
popularly  known  as  "the  railroad  sphinx." 

It  is  no  breach  of  confidence  to  tell  of  one  bit  of  the  work  that 
meant  so  much  to  the  Northwest.  It  was  a  matter  of  great  study 
in  the  early  '8o's  whether  the  Oregon  Short  Line  en  route  to  Port- 
land should  follow  the  water  grade  of  Snake  River  around  by 
Lewiston,  go  across  central  Oregon  to  the  head  of  the  Willamette 
Valley,  and  down  that  water  grade,  or  take  the  short  cut  across 


326         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  Blue  Motintains  through  Baker  City,  La  Grande,  and  Pendle- 
ton. Pard's  report  was  wholly  in  favor  of  the  Blue  Mountain 
route  which  was  finally  adopted,  and  its  justification  has 
been  that  for  thirty  years  no  other  route  has  had  any  serious 
consideration. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
DOWN  THE  COLUMBIA  WITH  ITS  MANY  PORTAGES 

*'  Singing  through  the  forests, 

Rattling  over  ridges, 
Shooting  under  arches, 

Rumbling  over  bridges. 
Whizzing  through  the  mountains, 

Buzzing  o'er  the  vale; 
Bless  me!  this  is  pleasant. 

Riding  on  a  rail!  " 

wlINTER  was  indeed  at 
hand  and  Jack  Frost 
had  already  peeped  in 
at  the  windows  and  left 
his  congealed  breath 
on  the  glass.  It  was 
no  longer  safe  to  tarry 
in  Walla  Walla;  nav- 
igation might  close 
and  hold  us  there  for 
the  winter,  or  send  us 
again  eastward  over  the  same  tedious  way  that  we  had  come 
with  winter's  hardships  added  to  the  ordeal. 

The  grain  stubble  in  the  vast  wheat  fields  stretching  away 
to  the  horizon  told  of  the  wealth  of  the  valley  lands,  and  in  the 
many  parts  of  eastern  Washington  and  along  the  upper  Colum- 
bia, where  basaltic  rocks  had  not  been  ground  in  time's  crucible, 
there  were  many  fissures  where  the  rich  and  succulent  grass 
grew  abundantly  for  the  great  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep. 

There  had  been  a  wheat  transaction  between  Portland  and 
Walla  Walla  amounting  to  $116,000,  and  it  was  considered  a 
marvellous  thing,  but  to-day  it  requires  more  than  $3,000,000  to 
handle  that  rich  valley  product.  The  promise  of  the  land  was 
marvellous  beyond  conception,  with  its  black,  rich  loam  more 
than  fifty  feet  deep. 

327 


328         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

How  gloriously  good  it  would  seem  to  roll  along  on  rails  again 
and  realize  the  cherished  desire  of  a  trip  to  the  sea  on  the  famous 
old  Columbia  River. 

Pard's  philosophy  is,  to  want  anything  very  much  is  the 
biggest  half  of  getting  it,  for  if  the  desire  is  strong  enough,  one 
will  work  with  a  will  to  gratify  it.  So  at  last  we  moved  on  to 
that  old  historic  railroad,  which  had  been  so  long  the  connecting 
link  between  Walla  Walla  and  its  natural  market  on  the  west 
coast.  The  company  which  built  the  road  was  incorporated 
in  1868,  and  with  S.  D.  Baker  as  a  leading  spirit,  the  line  was  in 
operation  between  Wallula  and  Walla  Walla  in  1873.     The  first 


-^^f^f^.z^  — 


m^z 


s 

"The  cowhide  on  the  rails  smelled  good  to  the  famished  wolves" 

ten  miles  of  the  road  was  built  entirely  of  wood,  fir  stringers  four 
by  six  being  used  for  rails.  Later,  a  piece  of  strap  iron  was  put 
on  the  face  of  the  stringer  and  a  few  years  after  a  twenty-six- 
pound  rail  was  laid  the  entire  distance. 

Before  strap  iron  was  put  on  the  stringers,  Mr.  Baker  tried 
the  experiment  of  putting  down  strips  of  cowhide.  The  country 
was  ransacked  for  hides,  and  for  ten  miles  the  leather  was  nailed 
on  the  stringers.  The  experiment  seemed  to  be  working  all 
right  until  the  following  winter,  which  was  unusually  severe. 
The  cold  weather  and  scarcity  of  food  drove  the  coyotes  out  into 
the  clearings  along  the  railroad.  The  cowhide  on  the  rails 
smelled  good  to  the  famished  wolves,  and  they  proceeded  to  eat 
up  Mr.  Baker's  railroad. 


Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages    329 

It  is  said  that  Mr.  Hunt,  successor  to  Mr.  Baker,  had  a  way 
of  his  own  in  making  discriminating  freight  rates.     The  fast 


Copyright  Benj.  A.  Cifford 

White  River  Falls  near  The  Dalles,  Oregon 


freight,  for  which  a  higher  rate  was  charged,  was  simply  put  on 
the  front  end  of  the  train,  and  the  slow  freight  at  the  rear. 
However,  it  was  a  money  maker  from  the  start.     A  rate  of 


330         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

$4.50  per  ton  was  charged  for  carrying  freight  the  distance  of 
thirty-one  miles.  The  Httle  engine  that  hauled  the  half  dozen 
cars  over  the  line  was  capable  of  making  only  ten  miles  an  hour. 
Part  of  the  country  between  Walla  Walla  and  Wallula  was 
devoted  to  raising,  cattle.  For  fear  some  of  the  cattle  should 
get  on  the  tracks  and  be  run  over  and  cause  damage  suits,  Mr. 
Baker  bought  half  a  dozen  dogs,  which  were  sent  ahead  of  the 
"fast  freight"  to  keep  the  cattle  off  the  right-of-way. 

The  road  was  still  the  dinky  little  narrow  gauge,  but  it  was 
too  great  an  improvement  over  the  stage-coach  to  complain 
about.  Mr.  Baker's  road  was  turned  over  to  the  Oregon  Rail- 
road and  Navigation  Company  in  1882,  and  was  then  made 
standard  gauge  to  grapple  with  the  rapidly  increasing  traffic,  and 
to  harmonize  with  the  rest  of  the  road  that  was  that  year  being 
built  through  from  Portland  to  Huntington,  where  it  would  lock 
hands  with  the  oncoming  Oregon  Short  Line  of  the  Union 
Pacific. 

It  was  a  cold  December  day  for  our  coveted  trip  down  the 
Columbia;  it  was  a  bitter  disappointment  to  find  the  morning 
dimmed  by  a  robe  of  heavy  mist  and  fog ;  but  how  good  it  was  to 
be  on  wheels  that  did  not  incessantly  fall  in  a  chuck-hole  or  make 
the  brain  reel  with  fear  of  upsetting  over  some  precipitous 
declivity,  to  lean  one's  head  on  the  casing  for  a  little  easement  of 
mind  and  eyes  without  being  hurled  across  the  vehicle  to  bump 
one's  cranium  on  whatever  might  come  in  the  way! 

The  settlers  also  appreciated  this  railroad,  rude  as  it  was,  for 
the  wagon  road  to  Wallula  from  Walla  Walla  was  a  volcanic  ash 
mixed  with  alkali,  like  the  roads  are  through  southern  Idaho, 
and  the  wagons  would  sink  to  the  hubs  in  the  soft  road-bed. 
Freighting  was  expensive  over  such  roads.  It  cost  from  ten  to 
twenty  dollars  a  ton  to  haul  freight  this  thirty-one  miles  by  teams 
and  six  dollars  down  the  river,  and  still  an  additional  charge 
for  the  two  portages  of  Celilo  Rapids  and  the  Cascades.  How- 
ever, in  these  later  days  they  are  complaining  at  a  charge  of 
$2.75  per  ton  on  their  wheat  from  Walla  Walla  clear  through  to 
Portland! 

The  Columbia  River  rises  in  the  Rocky  Mountains  of  British 
Columbia  and  Montana,  and  flows  northwest  and  then  south 
through  eastern  Washington,  and  when  it  reaches  the  Oregon 
line  it  turns  abruptly  west  and  marks  the  boundaries  of  the  two 


Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages  331 


States  in  its  final  northwesterly  course  to  where  all  waters  lose 
their  identity  in  the  western  sea. 

Steamboating  on  the  upper  Columbia  and  its  tributaries  is  a 
revelation  to  those  accustomed  to  the  peaceful  rivers  of  the  East. 
The  Columbia  drains  an  empire  400,000  square  miles  in  extent, 
from  whose  snow  fields  scores  of  rivers  combine  to  quickly  make 
it  at  times  the  equal  of  the  Mississippi  at  its  best.  The  variation 
between  high  and  low  water  is  almost  incredible.     A  distinguished 


Copyrighled  by  Geo.  M . 

Celilo  Falls,  the  great  barrier  to  navigation  at  The  Dalles,  Oregon 

engineer  estimates  that  for  days  at  a  time  the  increase  in  its 
volume  each  twenty-four  hours  is  equal  to  the  entire  average 
flow  of  the  Hudson.  What  a  current  to  breast  with  ordinary 
craft  and  what  ups  and  downs  of  its  fickle  bosom  as  it  rapidly 
changes  from  highest  to  lowest  stage !  On  no  other  inland  water 
is  a  steamer's  log  so  quickly  filled  with  the  romance  of  naviga- 
tion. Near  one  of  the  rapids  we  found  the  City  of  Ellensburgh  at 
anchor  while  her  carpenters  were  giving  her  wheel  a  sprinkling 
of  new  paddles,  the  old  ones  having  been  knocked  off  the  night 
before  on  a  lava  reef  in  mid-river.  The  powerful  engines  of 
this  steamer  were  twenty-five  years  ago  doing  service  in  the 
famous  old  Aunt  Betsey  on  Lake  Michigan,  which  vessel  later 


332        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

came  through  Fox  River  and  Beef  Slough  to  the  Mississippi  and 
sunk  in  collision  on  Lake  Pepin.  The  wreck  was  raised  and  her 
engines  transferred  to  the  City  of  Ellenshurgh  with  her  chief 
engineer,  B.  R.  Rice,  who  has  stuck  by  those  engines  ever  since 
and  he  said  they  would  be  in  use  after  he  is  dead. 

The  Columbia  was  then  navigable  for  more  than  two  hundred 
miles  from  its  mouth  for  ocean  vessels,  and  millions  of  dollars 


The  great  Columbia  waterway  between  Lewiston  and  Portland 

have  since  been  invested  in  improving  the  channel.  Many  hun- 
dreds of  miles  of  its  tributaries  are  navigable  beyond  the  borders 
of  Washington  and  Oregon.  Captain  Gray,  now  mayor  of  Pasco, 
navigated  the  first  boat  on  the  river  in  British  Columbia.  For 
forty -five  years  he  operated  steamers  on  the  Columbia  and  many 
times  ran  the  gauntlet  of  hostile  Indians  on  the  banks.  Captain 
White,  who  was  another  pioneer  commander  on  the  upper  Col- 
umbia, repeatedly  fought  his  way  on  The  Forty-Nine  through  all 
the  rapids  up  to  Revelstoke  and  beyond. 

One  cannot  imagine  the  grandeur  of  a  trip  on  the  Columbia 
River  beginning  a  hundred  miles  from  our  own  border  line  away 
up  in  the  Canadian  Rockies  whose  summits  are  held  in  great 
glaciers.  The  slowly  melting  icebergs  send  down  their  powerful 
arms  that  open  vast  fissures  and  make  the  great  waterways  of  the 
world.     The  panoramic   views  of  these  great  headlands  of  ice 


Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages  333 


and  snow  and  the  deep  canyons  and  dense  forestry  of  the  lower 
watercourses  on  the  Canadian  side  beggars  description.  From 
Revelstoke  the  river  widens  into  the  beautiful  Arrow  Lakes  then 
it  narrows  as  it  flows  to  the  southwest  through  the  Chelan 
country  in  Washington,  which  is  now  famous  the  world  over  for 
its  grand  scenic  effects.  Lake  Chelan's  surroundings  are  but  a 
shade  less  grand  than  those  of  the  far  North.  It  occupies  a  fissure 
unfathomed,  but  known  to  be  looo  ft.  below  sea-level.  The 
vast  summits  and  wooded  slopes  are  reflected  so  perfectly  in  the 
smooth  waters 
that  an  unprac- 
tised eye  fears  a 
collision  with  vast 
bulkheads  mir- 
rored so  delusive- 
ly. From  canyons 
and  rocky  defiles 
the  river  runs  into 
the  more  open 
country  around 
Priest  Rapids  un- 
til reaching  the 
great  sand  dunes 
of  Snake  River. 
After  these  waters 
unite  the  Colum- 
bia becomes  more 
turbulent  and 
treacherous   with 

falls  and  cascades,  jutting  lava  rocks,  and  tide  currents  that 
tend  to  make  navigation  more  difficult  and  they  are  obstacles 
that  only  locks  and  canals  can  obviate. 

Umatilla  was  only  a  small  village  of  two  or  three  hundred 
people,  but  it  was  full  of  promise  for  a  commercial  centre  in  those 
early  days.  It  has  been  a  disappointment,  and  is  almost  as  little 
known  to-day  as  it  was  in  the  early  '8o's.  The  ground  around  the 
town  was  covered  with  small  beautifully  tinted  shells,  washed  up 
by  the  high  tides,  and  Indian  arrow  heads  were  found  in  large 
numbers.  As  this  was  the  end  of  the  historic  railroad,  the 
change  from  the  cars  to  the  steamer  was  soon  made,  and  we 


A  block  house  overlooking  the  Columbia  River 


334         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

went  sailing  down  the  Columbia.  The  scenery  of  this  portion  of 
the  river  is  not  the  most  picturesque ;  basaltic  rocks  rise  bold  and 
bare  on  either  side,  with  scarcely  a  tree  to  break  the  monotonous 
landscape.  Dinner  was  served  on  the  steamer,  and  at  3  o'clock 
P.M.  we  were  again  in  the  cars,  and  portaged  to  The  Dalles,  thus 
avoiding  another  dangerous  part  of  the  river. 


"  Picturesque  Indian  camps  of  the  Umatillas  " 

The  whole  country  from  Pendleton,  Oregon,  to  Umatilla, 
and  on  down  the  Coliimbia  River,  was  dotted  with  picturesque 
Indian  camps  of  the  Umatillas  and  many  roving  tribes. 

The  Dalles  was  an  important  business  centre,  with  a  popula- 
tion of  about  5000  people.  The  O.  R.  &  N.  Co.  had  extensive 
machine  shops  there,  and  even  manufactured  its  own  cars. 
At  that  point,  too,  the  river  channel  was  narrowed  by  projecting 
basaltic  banks  into  a  space  of  a  hundred  yards,  with  depth  un- 
known, for  no  line  yet  dropped  had  found  a  resting  place. 

When  we  arrived  at  The  Dalles  it  was  snowing  furiously,  with 
a  strong  wind  blowing ;  it  seemed  as  if  we  had  been  floating  back- 
wards into  the  land  of  bHzzards  instead  of  approaching  the  soft 


Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages  335 

air  of  the  Pacific.  The  train  was  late  and  everybody  was  raven- 
ously hungry,  but  on  board  the  steamer  the  supper  hour  was  over, 
and  coaxing  for  even  a  sandwich  was  without  avail;  finally,  with 
judicious  oiling,  the  steward  was  persuaded  to  give  me  a  lunch 
on  the  pantry  shelf,  but  Pard  could  not  get  a  morsel  for  himself. 
He  had  to  go  out  in  that  blinding  storm  to  the  hospitable  old 


Copyrighted  by  Ceo.  M.  Weisler,  Portland,  Ore. 

Castle  Rock  on  the  Columbia 

Umatilla  House,  which  had  apparently  already  fed  more  than 
its  dinner  quota.  He  was  first  seated  at  a  table  that  had  been 
used  to  the  limit,  and  the  linen  was  too  much  soiled  for  endur- 
ance. The  head  waiter  responded  courteously  to  the  request 
for  something  better,  and  seated  Pard  again,  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  room,  where  there  were  two  ladies  at  the  table. 
The  linen  was  of  spotless  and  inviting  whiteness.  But  alas  for 
his  pride!  when  his  supper  was  served,  his  sleeve  caught  the  end 
of  a  table  spoon  in  a  tureen  of  stewed  tomatoes,  and  splashed 
out  a  fiery  spurt  of  the  liquid  that  spread  a  roseate  glow  from  the 
roots  of  his  hair  to  the  very  plates  of  the  ladies.  He  said  he  never 
knew  that  one  tureen  could  hold  so  much  trouble,  and  he  was  not 
long  in  making  an  exit  to  cool  his  humiliation  in  the  wintry  blasts 


336         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

outside.  The  snow  was  so  blinding  he  could  scarcely  see  his 
way  to  the  steamer,  and  our  long  coveted  trip  seemed  hovering 
in  clouds  of  disappointment. 

The  steamboat  as  the  forerunner  of  the  railroad  is  an  im- 
portant factor  in  the  development  of  a  country,  but  it  has  never 
held  its  prestige  after  railroads  were  built ;  yet  it  was  the  profits 


Copyrighted  by  Benj.  A.  Gifford 

The  rocky  abutment  of  the  Bridge  of  the  Gods 

made  in  the  golden  age  of  steamboating  that  furnished  the  first 
money  used  in  the  railroad  building  contiguous  to  the  Columbia. 
It  was  the  wonderfully  rich  traffic  which  appeared  with  the  dis- 
covery of  the  Salmon  River  mines  that  enabled  the  steamboats 
on  the  Lewiston-Celilo  run  to  make  records  for  money-making 
that  have  never  been  equalled.  The  steamer  Tenino  on  a  single 
trip  from  Celilo  to  Lewiston  in  May,  1862,  collected  $18,000  for 
freight,  fares,  meals,  and  berths. 

With  completion  of  the  rail  lines  to  Wallula  it  was  found 
impossible  for  the  steamboats  to  compete  with  the  railroads  in 
the  carrying  trade.  Although  the  fleet  then  in  service  between 
Celilo  and  Lewiston  included  much  finer  and  larger  steamers 
than  any  that  have  since  appeared  on  that  route,  and  repre- 
sented an  investment  of  several  hundred  thousand  dollars,  they 
were  practically  abandoned,  and  most  of  them  were  taken  down  to 
the  lower  river. 


Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages  337 


[ 


Whatever  regret  there  may  be  in  substituting  the  steam 
trains,  the  commercial  fact  stands  out  in  bold  relief  that  the 
difference  in  cost  is  too  great.  A  single  engine  with  sixty  cars 
and  a  train  crew  of  five  men  can  make  the  round  trip  from  Port- 
land to  Lewiston  and  return  with  1800  tons  of  wheat  in  less  than 
two  days.  To 
move  a  similar 
amount  by  the 
largest  size  car- 
riers that  could  be 
operated  on  the 
water  route  would 
require  a  boat  car- 
rying a  crew  of 
twenty  men  more 
than  two  weeks. 

It  is  unfortu- 
nate and  although 
we  may  say  that 
freight-boats  and 
stage-coaches  are 
things  of  the  past, 
let  us  hope  for  the 
day  when  tourist 
travel  will  demand 
the  restoration  of 
steamers  in  Orien- 
tal splendor  on  the 
great  waterways 
of  the  Columbia 
and  Snake  rivers. 

There  is  an  old  Indian  legend  that  the  Columbia  River  once 
flowed  through  a  hole  in  the  mountains  at  The  Dalles,  with  a 
great  natural  bridge  of  wooded  land  above  called  the  Bridge  of 
the  Gods.  An  old  Indian  tells  the  legend  of  his  grandfather 
passing  through  there  in  a  canoe,  and  that  the  way  was  very, 
very  long  and  dark.  Then  there  came  a  battle  of  the  mountains 
and  fire  and  water,  which  is  believed  to  have  been  an  earthquake, 
and  broke  asunder  the  natural  bridge,  leaving  the  water  full  of 
massive  rocks  and  forming  an  impassable  barrier  to  navigation. 


Copyrighted  by  Benj.  A.  Gifford,  Portland,  Ore. 

Gigantic  balustrades  of  lava  along  the  Columbia 


33^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


"Latourelle  Falls  leap  four  hundred 
feet  in  a  graceful  curve" 


The  broken  mountain  range 
on  either  side  of  the  river  car- 
ries convincing  proof  that  such 
a  condition  must  have  existed. 
The  precipitous  banks  and 
detached  rocks  on  both  sides 
carry  out  the  theory,  but  how 
many  hundreds  or  thousands 
of  years  ago  that  was  no  one 
can  tell.  Vast  quantities  of 
molten  lava  were  poured  out 
over  the  lands,  destroying  the 
forests  of  the  mountains  and 
leaving  the  great  black  masses 
piled  in  hideous  array  on  both 
sides  of  the  river. 

The  bridge  with  its  forest 
of  trees  was  destroyed  and 
the  banks  of  the  river  caved 
in,  which  accounts  for  the 
many  dead  tree  trunks  strew- 
ing the  river  bed  from  the  lit- 
tle town  of  Mosier,  Oregon,  to 
the  Cascade  Locks,  which,  al- 
though submerged,  still  stand 
like  gravestones  telling  the 
tale  of  a  dead  and  forgotten 
past. 

Mt.  Hood  and  Mt.  Adams, 
both  of  volcanic  origin,  and 
the  pride  and  joy  of  Oregon, 
may  at  one  time  have  been 
more  closely  interlocked  than 
they  are  now  and  such  a  union 
is  indicated  by  the  deep  can- 
yons and  high  waterlines  far 
above  those  of  the  present 
day. 

From  The  Dalles  we  had 
only  dim  views  of  the  grandeur 


Down  the  Columbia  with  its  Many  Portages  339 


that  we  knew  was  on  either  bank,  for  the  storm  continued  with- 
out cessation.  However,  the  rocky  pinnacles  were  clothed  in  the 
living  green  of  the  stately  pines,  and  diversions  of  Nature's  foliage, 
and  the  emerald 
islands  and  grace- 
ful curves  of  the 
river  heldnis  in  a 
worshipful  admir- 
ation.  At  10 
o'clock  we  made  a 
third  portage  of  a 
few  miles  around 
the  roaring,  wild 
cascades,  and 
boarded  the 
princely  steamer 
Wild  West. 

It  is  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty 
miles  from  Walla 
Walla  to  Portland 
and  sixty  miles 
from  the  Cas- 
cades. The  river 
forces  its  way 
through  the  Cas- 
cade range,  leav- 
ing walls  of  3500 
feet  in  proof  of  its 
erosive  power. 
Two  miles  below 
the  Cascades 
•'  Castle  Rock  " 
rears  its  beautiful 
head  which  can 
be  seen  for    fifty 

miles  down  the  river.  It  stands  alone  at  the  water's  edge  and 
rises  abruptly  to  a  height  of  a  thousand  feet.  It  covers  an  area  at 
its  base  of  fifteen  acres,  while  the  apex  is  a  level  circle  of  several 
acres. 


Copyrighted  by  Geo.  M.  Weister 

Rounding  Cape  Horn 


340         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

There  were  numberless  waterfalls  leaping  down  among  the 
rocks,  but  **  Multnomah  "  and  the  "  Latourelle  "  are  those  of 
greatest  fame.  The  Multnomah  Falls  are  seven  hundred  feet 
high  and  are  divided  into  two  leaps.  The  first  one  falls  into  a 
receptacle  of  its  own  carving  and  in  this  rocky  basin,  twenty- 
feet  in  diameter,  are  myriads  of  mountain  trout;  from  this 
granite  enclosure  Multnomah  makes  her  second  leap,  with  beauty 
and  grandeur  so  appalling  that  one  is  frightened  at  the  echo  of 
his  own  voice  as  it  rebounds  from  cliff  to  cliff. 

Latourelle  Falls  are  possessed  of  a  very  novel  feature.  They 
are  four  hundred  feet  high  and  the  ledge  or  shelf  from  which  the 
water  leaps  projects  out  from  the  main  wall  some  seventy  feet; 
the  water  falls  with  a  graceful  curve  that  is  almost  half  a  circle, 
leaving  ample  room  for  a  driveway  behind  the  grand  colossal 
water  column. 

Away  to  the  left  a  rift  in  the  storm  clouds  revealed  the  white 
head  of  Mt.  Hood,  the  landmark  of  ages.  Its  altitude  is 
about  11,000  feet,  rising  almost  alone  from  the  sea-level.  Its 
pyramidal  beauty  and  magnificence  is  that  of  which  Oregonians 
are  justly  proud.  No  picture  of  Oregon,  of  pen  or  brush,  seems 
complete  without  Mt.  Hood's  hoary  head  as  it  stands  in  untiring, 
faithful  guardianship. 

Farther  down  the  river  the  tall  concrete  minarets  proved  the 
nearness  of  Cape  Horn,  but  increasing  storm  gradually  hid  it 
from  view;  at  last  even  the  shores  were  lost  in  the  fog,  and  the 
constant  shriek  of  the  whistles  gave  warning  of  a  dangerous  way. 

We  stopped  for  a  few  moments  at  Vancouver,  Washington 
Territory  (as  it  was  then  known),  which  was  and  still  is  a  govern- 
ment reservation.  It  is  one  of  the  spots  earliest  inhabited  by 
white  men  on  the  North  Pacific  coast.  It  was  largely  of  miHtary 
population,  and  so  far  as  we  could  see  from  the  liner  it  was  one  of 
the  prettiest  towns  in  the  West.     Its  population  was  then  about 

2000. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
PORTLAND  AND  PUGET  SOUND 


E  were  two  hours  or  more  sail- 
ing up  the  Willamette  River 
after  turning  from  the  Col- 
umbia, before  we  landed  at 
the  Portland  wharf.  I  smiled 
at  my  own  ignorance  in  having 
believed  that  Portland  was  on 
the  Columbia  River  and  near 
the  ocean  instead  of  being  on 
a  crossroad  a  hundred  and 
twenty  miles  from  the  drunken 
liquid  of  the  Columbia  Bar. 

When  the  gangplank  was 
flung  out  and  the  passengers 
began  wending  their  way  to 
carriage  and  omnibus,  it  was  gratefully  amusing  to  hear  the 
hotel  runners  singing  their  calls  in  musical  rhythm,  instead  of 
shouting  in  the  usual  harsh,  stentorian  way  and  it  deprived  the 
heraldry  of  its  unpleasant  features  and  gave  one  a  happy  im- 
pression of  Portland  at  the  very  start.  All  the  omnibuses  were 
free  to  the  hotel,  but  when  one  left  town  he  was  surprised  to  find 
a  collector  at  the  door  as  he  landed  at  the  depot  to  collect  a 
dollar  fare. 

Providence  was  indeed  kind  to  guide  us  down  the  river  in  the 
very  nick  of  time,  for  the  freezing  storm  had  closed  in  behind 
us,  blocking  navigation  for  the  winter,  severing  all  communica- 
tion with  the  upriver  country  until  spring,  save  as  an  occasional 
mail  bearer  could  flounder  through  the  snow-locked  passes  on 
horseback  or  snowshoes. 

Sleighbells  jingled  merrily  in  a  way  to  surprise  the  natives 
of  that  choleric  clime,  for  snow  enough  for  sleighing  was  an 

341 


342         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

unheard-of  occurrence.  It  was  amusing  and,  in  a  way,  pitiful  to 
see  the  helplessness  of  the  people  under  the  burden  of  snow. 
The  walks  were  not  cleaned  anywhere  and  merchants  let  people 
get  into  their  stores  as  best  they  could.  There  were  all  kinds  of 
improvised  sleds,  from  a  dry  goods  box  to  a  rocking-chair,  and 
all  kinds  of  bells,  from  sleighbells,  cowbells,  and  teabells  to 
Portland  belles,  making  a  conglomerate  of  tones  hard  to  describe; 


Portland,  Oregon,  of  to-day 

but  it  was  withal  a  very  merry  time  for  the  usually  rain-laden 
Coasters. 

The  St.  Charles  was  a  pretty  fine  place  in  '80  and  we  folded 
our  weatherbeaten,  stage-worn  selves  away  there  in  dreams  of 
luxury  not  enjoyed  for  many  'a  day.  The  luxury,  however,  was 
all  in  the  rooms,  for  the  table,  as  described  in  my  notes  and  letters 
home  in  a  way  more  forcible  than  elegant,  was  not  far  from 
detestable,  and  we  had  to  search  elsewhere  for  viands  palatable. 

I  rang  the  bell  in  our  room  for  some  service  without  getting 
any  response,  so  again  and  again  I  pushed  the  button  and  heard 
the  tinkle  way  off  somewhere,  so  it  was  surely  in  working  order. 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound 


343 


Nearly  an  hour  passed  before  a  great,  fat,  250-pound  darky 
came  shuffling,  flapperty-flap,  down  the  hall  to  our  number  and 
knocked.  I  opened  the  door  with  a  measure  of  impatience,  to 
find  him  standing  there  with  a  broad  grin  on  his  big,  black  face 
that  revealed  every  tooth  in  his  head.  With  eyeballs  bulging 
he  wiped  the  moisture  from  his  brow  with  his  much  soiled  sleeve 
and  said:  "I  guess 
you  thinks  I  'se 
awfully  slow,  Mis- 
sus, but  when  you 
all 's  been  heah 
six  months  yous' 
'11  be  just  as  lazy 
ez  anybody."  The 
impertinence  was 
inexcusable,  but 
slowness  of  move- 
ment and  thought 
was  in  reality  a 
strong  character- 
istic of  that  semi- 
tropical  cHmate, 
and  he  was  but  a 
fair  sample  of  his 
colaborers. 

There  were 
three  railroads, 
seven  steamboat 
lines  on  the  rivers, 
and  three  ocean 
steamship  lines 

for  passenger  and  freight  traffic  that  centred  in  Portland,  and  it 
was  an  open  question  whether  these  companies  were  to  make 
this  the  strong  commercial  centre  of  the  Northwest,  or  whether 
it  would  be  changed  to  some  more  accessible  seaport.  Its  busi- 
ness blocks,  although  not  of  huge  dimensions,  were  models  of 
architectural  beauty;  in  fact,  it  was  the  best  built  town  of 
20,000  people  anywhere  west  of  the  Mississippi  River.  The  old 
residents  were  wealthy  and  had  a  good  degree  of  enterprise, 
which  promised  to  hold  Portland's  supremacy. 


Courtesy  of  Lee  Moorehouse,  Pendleton,  Ore. 

A  native  belle  of  Oregon 


344         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  Oregonian,  the  pioneer  paper,  had  reached  the  mature 
age  of  thirty  years,  and  was  a  sheet  of  thirt3-two  columns,  issued 
daily.  This  makes  the  Oregonian  now  a  stately  matron  of  more 
than  sixty  years,  and  we  hope  that  she  may  keep  the  bloom  of 
youth  for  aye,  but  wish  she  would  please  tell  us  where  to  find  the 
fountain  of  that  elixir  that  we  may  keep  apace. 

The  entire  products  of  the  State  and  largely  of  Washington 
were  first  turned  into  the  storehouses  of  Portland  by  rail  or 
river  boats  before  being  loaded  upon  the  ocean  steamers  that 
sailed  at  stated  intervals  to  California,  the  far  East  or  across  the 
big  pond. 

The  bright  sunny  days  in  which  we  had  taken  so  much  pride 
and  pleasure  in  our  frontier  travels  were  now  of  the  past,  and 
encased  in  rubber  coats  and  boots  we  wandered  up  and  down  the 
country  quite  disconsolate.  Morning,  noon,  and  night  the  patter 
or  steady  pour  of  rain  constituted  the  chief  music  of  the  outside, 
while  comments  on  the  unending  shower  filled  the  atmosphere 
within  doors.  Residents,  however,  were  quite  delighted;  they 
were  happier  wading  around  in  the  mud  and  water  than  when  they 
received  God's  smile  through  a  bright  radiant  sun,  for  the  long 
summers  were  so  dust  laden  that  life  was  one  constant  wrestle 
against  a  sandy  covering. 

In  a  driving  rain  and  several  inches  of  melting  snow,  we  were 
carried  through  the  streets  of  Portland  at  seven  o'clock  one 
morning  to  the  ferry  which  crossed  the  Willamette  River,  then 
waded  ankle  deep  in  the  slush  a  couple  of  blocks  to  the  train  of 
the  Oregon  and  California  Railway  Company,  which  was  to  take 
us  through  the  Willamette  valley  to  Roseburg.  For  eight  years 
Roseburg  had  been  the  terminus  of  the  Oregon  and  California 
road,  and  there  also  the  stages  started  for  California  to  cover  a 
gap  of  250  miles  to  California  rails.  Roseburg  is  two  hun- 
dred miles  from  Portland,  in  a  southwesterly  direction,  and 
only  seventy-five  miles  inland  from  the  coast. 

The  Willamette  valley,  fifty  miles  wide,  was  as  charming 
a  landscape  as  ever  eye  dwelt  upon.  It  was  justly  called  the 
garden  of  Oregon,  and  contained  at  least  half  the  population  of 
the  State.  Little  villages  and  sprightly  towns  dotted  the  way 
from  four  to  eight  miles  apart.  The  clouds  broke  away  for  a 
little  while  and  revealed  deep  forests,  rich  meadows,  and  groves 
of  moss-covered  drooping  oaks;  pleasant  homes  embowered  in 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound 


345 


living  green,  and  the  sparkling  rivers  bordered  with  slender 
birch  and  more  stately  trees.  Orchards  had  been  so  full  of 
fruit  that  the  market  was  depressed,  and  bushels,  yes,  carloads, 
of  apples  still  clung  to  the  mother  limbs  or  clustered  on  the 
ground  without  value  enough  to  be  gathered. 

Nearly  all  the  farm  homes  were  well  improved  and  betokened 


Copyrighted  by  Benj.  A.  Gifford 

In  the  shadow  of  the  pines  in  Central  Oregon 

a  good  degree  of  prosperity.  Some  of  the  best  farming  land  in 
the  valley  was  cleared  timber  land,  which  in  the  virgin  state  was 
sometimes  so  dense  that  the  eye  could  not  penetrate  it ;  then  again 
there  was  the  gently  rolling  uplands,  and  near  the  middle  of  the 
valley  it  was  as  level  as  a  marble  slab. 

At  Oregon  City  the  famous  woollen  mills  were  doing  business 
just  as  they  are  now,  making  some  of  the  best  woollen  goods  in 
the  United  States,  and  just  above  the  town  were  the  picturesque 
winding  falls  of  the  Willamette  River,  which  have  made  the 
country  famous. 

At  Salem  we  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  State  House,  university, 
and  many  fine  homes.  The  State  university  was  still  further 
south  at  Eugene,  the  prettiest  town  in  the  valley.     The  day  had 


34^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

become  so  mild  and  pleasant  that  students  were  out  playing  ball 
without  hats  or  coats. 

The  Cascade  Range  of  mountains  form  the  eastern  and  the 
Coast  Range  the  western  boundary  line  of  the  Willamette  valley, 
and  where  these  unite  at  the  southern  end  of  the  valley  they  are 
called  the  Callapoia  mountains.  Between  the  Willamette  river 
and  the  summit  of  the  Callapoia  mountains,  where  the  road 
crossed  into  Umpqua  valley,  was  the  only  untenanted  tract  of 
land.  It  was  very  rich,  but  land  speculators  had  taken  posses- 
sion of  it  and  held  it  then  at  fifty  dollars  an  acre  in  its  rough 
and  unimproved  state.  The  Umpqua  valley  contained  about 
2,500,000  acres.  Thunderstorms  were  almost  unknown,  and 
hailstorms  and  hurricanes  were  phenomena  of  which  the  people 
were  ignorant. 

The  combination  of  mountain  and  valley,  woodland  and 
prairie,  and  river  and  sea,  is  beautiful  indeed  in  this  locaHty. 
Stretching  at  the  foot  of  snowy  mountain  ranges  were  broad 
expanses  of  green  swards  and  running  waters,  while  the  spruce, 
cedar,  oak,  pine,  fir,  different  kinds  of  ash,  maple,  balm,  larch,  and 
laurel,  with  many  other  trees  of  the  forest,  dotted  the  valleys 
and  hillsides  until  the  picture  was  complete. 

It  was  interesting  and  amusing  to  see  the  dense  growth  of 
moss  on  the  housetops.  No  matter  whether  the  roof  was  new  or 
old,  unless  it  was  painted,  a  warm  rain  would  bring  out  an 
astonishing  growth  of  rich  green  moss.  Should  such  a  thing 
occur  in  the  East,  it  would  be  ascribed  either  to  the  age  of  the 
town,  or  to  the  slow,  lazy  laggard,  who  took  no  pride  in  his 
home;  but  here  every  board  and  shingle,  wherever  it  might  be, 
had  to  be  scraped  every  few  years  to  keep  it  from  decay,  because 
of  this  moss  growth. 

Roseburg  had  a  population  of  about  two  thousand  people, 
and  had  the  trade  of  the  rich  farming  country  for  over  a  hundred 
miles  inland  and  far  to  the  south.  It  had  been  our  intention  to 
take  the  stage  here  for  Redding,  the  terminal  point  of  the  Central 
Pacific  road,  which  came  from  Sacramento  River,  but  hearing 
the  mud  was  bottomless,  and  being  tired  of  that  sort  of  thing, 
we  preferred  to  feed  the  fishes  all  the  way  from  Portland  to  the 
Golden  Gate  to  so  soon  renewing  the  hardships  of  stage  travel, 
and  so  went  back  to  Portland.  Our  time  had  been  well  spent 
in  getting  that  double  view  of  Willamette  valley  in  its  glory,  for 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound  347 

from  1882  to  1897  that  valley  sent  out  more  people  than  came  in, 
because  of  the  high  price  of  lands  as  held  by  speculators,  and 
people  went  to  the  country  contiguous  to  the  Palouse  and 
Yakima,  where  the  wilderness  of  Government  lands  was  made 
fruitful  in  a  year's  time. 

We  had  some  personal  experiences  in  Portland  that  were 


On  the  top  of  the  world 

quite  new  and  interesting,  if  they  were  not  pleasant.  In  fact,  it 
was  our  first  acquaintance  with  the  Pacific  Coast  flea,  and  we 
were  not  at  all  pleased  with  its  familiarity.  Life  became  almost 
unendurable  in  the  indescribable  misery  of  that  association. 
It  was  far  worse  than  all  the  bumps  in  the  stage-coach,  or 
sleeping  on  rocks  under  the  open  canopy  of  heaven.  We 
could  not  liberate  ourselves  from  them  and,  furthermore, 
soon  learned  that  they  were  not  confined  to  Portland  but  that 
the  Puget  Sound  country,  the  steamships,  and  all  California 
would  hold  out  the  same  health-giving  exponent  to  every  arrival. 
I  say  "health-giving"  because  with  all  my  later  experiences  in 
California  I  was  led  to  believe  that  the  activity  required  to  rid 
oneself  of  the  vicious  marauders  was  what  produced  such  a  new 
and  active  circulation  of  the  blood  as  would  expurge  from  the 
system  the  most  virulent  disease  and,  therefore,  through  its  fleas 


34^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

California  has  become  a  wonderful  cure-all.  Disbelievers  should 
try  it.  The  California  flea  is  an  electrical  vibrator  that  should 
be  given  its  full  commercial  value. 

There  was  much  cause  for  alarm  at  the  great  prevalence 
of  smallpox  which  was  raging  up  and  down  the  coast.  Every  one 
had  to  pass  under  the  rod  of  the  law  and  be  vaccinated.     It  did 


Copyrighted  by  Geo.  M.  Weister 

A  crevasse  in  the  glacier  of  Mount  Hood 


no  good  to  be  angry ;  one  might  as  well  smile  and  put  up  his  arm 
at  two  dollars  per.  The  surgeon  amused  himself  jabbing  the 
needle  deep  in  the  flesh  and  telling  about  the  real  bovine  virus 
which  he  used,  and  which  was  so  hard  to  get.  But  the  virus 
was  good  enough  not  to  work  out  its  mission  with  us,  although 
it  made  showing  enough  to  let  us  get  through  the  lines  when  we 
tried  to  pass  quarantine. 

Pard  was  very  proud  of  his  dainty  ''Burnsides"  in  our  early 
pioneer  days,  although  they  were  but  little  tufts  to  relieve  the 
slenderness  of  his  classical  features.  He  went  into  a  barber  shop 
in  Portland  where  the  tonsorial  artist  had  such  a  bad  eye  that  he 
shaved  off  one  side  and  not  the  other,  and  it  was  not  noticed  tmtil 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound  349 

he  came  back  to  the  hotel.  When  "the  man  with  the  hoe"  was 
assailed  for  his  carelessness,  he  declared  that  they  were  so  small 
he  had  not  seen  them,  and  that  the  mistake  was  in  not  taking 
them  off  on  both  sides,  which  he  proceeded  to  do.  Pard  wanted 
to  hibernate  and  nurse  them  back  again,  but  instead  it  was  a 
final  farewell  to  whiskers.  Tonsorial  experiences  were  manifold 
on  the  frontier,  and  Montana  was  not  without  its  episodes  in  that 
line.  In  Virginia  City  it  cost  two  dollars  for  a  hair  cut  and  a 
shave. 

That  Oregon  is  a  progressive  State  is  due  to  a  number  of  its 
enterprising  men,  who  resorted  to  a  little  scheme  of  enticing  fair 
maidens  to  come  West,  in  the  days  when  women  were  scarce. 
They  sent  a  young  man  of  large  acquaintance  back  to  his  New 
England  home,  with  instructions  to  select  and  escort  back  to 
Oregon  one  hundred  young  women,  guaranteeing  every  one  of 
them  a  year's  employment.  The  active  agent  was  a  fine-looking 
young  man,  quite  capable  of  executing  such  a  mission,  and  he 
did  accomplish  it  in  about  two  months'  time.  On  the  way  West 
he  himself  courted  one  of  the  girls,  and  by  the  time  they  had 
landed  in  Portland  she  had  promised  to  be  his  wife.  Of  course 
the  other  men  in  the  scheme  thought  he  had  not  played  quite 
square  with  them  by  taking  the  first  pick,  but  there  was  a  fine 
lot  of  marriageable  material  left,  and  in  less  than  three  years  they 
were  all  married,  some  of  them  being  to-day  leading  society 
ladies  of  the  State. 

The  young  man  who  did  so  much  for  Oregon  in  his  youth  was 
later  sent  for  two  terms  to  the  U.  S.  Senate,  and  his  wife  has  ever 
been  one  of  the  honored  ones  of  his  home  town. 

Oregon  is  a  great  State  of  plenty  now,  and  beautiful  women  are 
considered  one  of  its  strongest  attractions.  They  have  grown 
more  beautifiil  as  generations  pass,  because  of  the  luxurious  and 
healthful  foods  that  the  State  produces,  and  the  influence  of  the 
soft,  balmy  atmosphere.  Providence  has  been  generous  to  all 
who  will  lend  a  willing  hand  to  gather  the  substance  of  Oregon. 

I  think  it  was  about  the  spring  of  1885  that  a  stage-coach  was 
overturned  in  a  creek  in  southern  Oregon  by  a  rush  of  salmon. 
The  salmon  crowded  the  river  from  bank  to  bank  in  a  school  over 
a  mile  long.  Hundreds  of  them  jumped  out  on  the  bank  and 
wriggled  around  until  they  died.  Farmers  fed  their  hogs  on  fish, 
small  boys  gathered  them  in  their  arms,  and  their  elders  Speared 


350         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  larger  ones  for  the  sport  of  it.  Since  those  days  the  canneries 
have  been  estabhshed  and  the  fish  are  no  longer  abused  and 
wasted  when  they  seek  the  spawning  grounds,  as  they  were  on 
that  memorable  occasion. 

In  later  years  it  has  been  discovered  that  large  areas  of  desert 
land  in  Oregon  were  taken  up  under  the  Swamp  Land  Act,  land- 


At  the  ferry  crossing  of  the  Columbia 

grabbers  swearing  they  had  ridden  all  over  the  lands  in  boats. 
Their  statements  were  true  in  the  sense  that  they  were  carried 
in  a  boat,  but  they  neglected  to  state  that  the  boat  was  loaded  on 
a  wagon  and  pulled  about  by  horses  over  the  coveted  area,  and 
thus  they  secured  their  holdings. 

Twenty-five  miles  by  boat  was  the  only  way  to  reach  the 
little  narrow  gauge  road  of  the  Northern  Pacific  on  the  Washington 
shore  of  the  Columbia,  where  the  route  lay  to  Puget  Sound.  It 
was  not  yet  six  o'clock  in  the  morning  when  the  Emma  Haywood 
pulled  her  nose  out  of  the  Portland  dock  and  turned  it  down 
stream  to  the  mouth  of  the  Willamette,  then  across  the  Columbia 
River  to  the  little  junction  point  of  Kalama  on  the  Washington 
Territory  side.     There  was  a  drizzling  rain  when  the  little  boat 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound 


351 


started  and  it  enveloped  everybody  in  clouds  of  irritability  as 
well  as  water ;  everything  was  water  soaked  and  promised  a  dismal 
day,  but,  happily,  it  was  not  long  before  the  storm  abated  and 
sank  quietly  away;  the  stars  twinkled  down,  gladdening  all  hearts 
with  a  new  hope  for  clear  skies,  and  soon  the  winter  morning  sun 
merged  from  the  mist,  lighted  the  horizon  with  its  rays  of  red  and 
gold,  and  brought  Mt.  Hood  out  in  bold  relief  against  a  roseate 
sky.  The  quiet  beauty  of  the  morning  seemed  to  make  all  nature 
glad,  and  even  the  mighty  river  sang  to  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the 


The  rock  of  ages 


sea.  Ten  o'clock  came  only  too  soon,  and  the  clang,  clang  of  the 
bell  in  the  engine  room  was  the  signal  to  turn  off  the  steam,  and 
anchor  at  Kalama,  an  important  point  only  as  a  landing  for 
the  southern  terminus  of  the  railroad. 

Northern  Pacific  Railway  cars  were  ready  to  start  out  for  the 
Sound  soon  after  we  arrived.  The  passengers  did  the  usual 
scrambling  for  the  best  seats,  but  there  was  little  choice.  There 
was  not  sufficient  business  to  warrant  anything  but  mixed  trains 
of  passenger  and  freight  cars.  The  cars  were  peculiar  to  the 
section  of  the  country;  the  frames  of  the  seats  were  of  light- 
colored  wood,  covered  with  black  leather  and  gilt  tacks.  They 
were  very  narrow,  and  every  jerk  of  the  engine  afforded  amuse- 


352         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


ment  for  the  passengers,  as  they  were  hurled  from  the  little 
slippery  seats  repeatedly,  then  hastily  glanced  around  to  see  how 
their  neighbors  fared.  The  backs  of  the  seats  were  not  more 
than  half  high  enough,  and  the  natural  inclination  was  to  slide 
down  until  the  shoulder  blades  hooked  over  the  top  of  the 
slippery  slabs  behind,  while  one's  feet  searched  in  vain  for  a 
brace  below. 

The  windows  were  so  arranged  that  they  suited  any  one  else 
better  than  the  ones  for  whom  they  were  intended,  and  in  con- 
sequence of  this,  to  enjoy  the  scenery  I  found  that  I  must  recline 

ray  head  on  the 
shoulder  in  front  of 
me,  or  thrust  my 
hat  in  the  face  of 
the  stranger  behind 
me. 

A  moderately  tall 
man  would  need  to 
discard  both  hat 
and  boots  to  walk 
erect  through  the 
car  without  scrap- 
ing the  ceiling,  and 
nearly  every  one 
had  to  bend'  his 
head  to  get  through 
the  door;  in  fact, 
the  car  was  so  small 
that  it  only  need- 
ed my  little  dishes 
and  doll  to  believe  myself  in  an  old-time  playhouse.  But  we 
made  excellent  time  and  were  so  handsomely  treated  by  the 
officials  and  employes  of  the  road  that  we  soon  forgot  the  quaint 
cars  and  little  discomforts  and  thought  only  good  things  of  the 
company  and  the  great  power  the  corporation  might  some 
day  sway  in  Washington. 

The  headquarters  of  the  Northern  Pacific  Company  were  then 
at  New  Tacoma.  The  narrow  iron  arms  were  rapidly  folding  the 
Territory  in  their  embrace  as  they  reached  on  eastward  to  clasp  the 
brotherly  hand  of  the  division  coming  westward  from  Bismarck. 


The  oldest  bell  tower  in  the  world  " 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound  353 

Short  feeders  were  being  constructed  to  penetrate  many 
desirable  portions  of  the  far  Northwest,  and  with  the  $40,000,000, 
then  subscribed  for  its  use,  it  compelled  the  railroad  world  to 
admit  it  as  a  peer.  The  branch  from  Kalama  spanned  many  a 
stream,  penetrated  deep  forests,  and  crossed  the  great  Chehalis 
farming  lands. 

New  Tacoma  residents  thought  the  name  of  their  little  hamlet 
was  on  every  Eastern  tongue,  so  great  were  their  hopes  and  strong 
their  belief  in  future  greatness.  The  population  was  a  little  over  a 
thousand,  as  it  had  doubled  in  a  year.  Some  very  good  residences 
had  been  finished,  and  the  bluff  just  back  of  the  town  overlooking 
the  sound  was  dotted  with  pleasant  homes. 

The  principal  sources  of  revenue  aside  from  the  railroad  were, 
just  as  they  are  to-day,  coal  mines,  lumber,  hops,  and  fish.  The 
coal  mines  were  being  rapidly  developed,  and  hundreds  of  men 
were  employed  whose  trade  was  thrown  into  the  hands  of  New 
Tacoma  merchants.  The  principal  part  of  the  lumber  traffic 
was  carried  on  at  Old  Tacoma,  a  mile  distant,  but  virtually  it  was 
a  part  of  the  same  place. 

The  bell  tower  of  St.  Peter's  Church  in  Old  Tacoma  was  then 
as  now  one  of  the  interesting  features  for  sightseers,  for  it  is  one 
of  the  oldest  bell  towers  in  the  world — it  is  the  remains  of  a  giant 
cedar,  many  centuries  old,  and  overgrown  with  ivy.  The  tones 
of  the  ringing  bell  float  from  its  hidden  top,  where  fancy  makes 
music  for  the  soul  and  imagination  thrills  the  mind. 

It  did  not,  however, interest  me  as  much  as  the  Baptist  Church 
that  stands  in  the  city  of  Santa  Rosa,  Cal.,  which  enjoys  the 
distinction  of  having  been  constructed  entirely  from  a  single 
tree.  The  tree  from  which  the  timbers,  lumber,  and  shingles 
were  cut  was  a  giant  California  redwood,  and  a  considerable 
quantity  of  the  timber  was  left  over  after  the  church  building 
was  completed.  It  has  a  spire  seventy  feet  high,  an  auditorium 
seating  five  hundred,  a  parlor  seating  eighty,  a  pastor's  study, 
and  a  large  vestibule.  There  are  not  many  buildings  in  the 
world  in  which  all  the  timbers,  including  its  finishings,  have  been 
obtained  from  a  single  tree. 

The  hop  culture  in  the  Puyallup  valley  near  New  Tacoma 
was  a  subject  of  great  interest  and  value.  Great  difficulty  had 
been  experienced  in  years  gone  to  secure  the  requisite  help  in  the 
hop-picking  season,  and  that,  with  want  of  proper  knowledge  of 


354         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  culture,  had  been  a  source  of  loss,  but  the  year  1880  had  been 
one  of  great  success. 

At  least  2000  Indians  were  attracted  thither  in  that  year 
from  beyond  the  Cascade  Mountains,  from  around  the  sound,  and 
even  as  far  north  as  Sitka,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  picking  hops 
and  fishing.  For  the  first  few  days  of  the  season  Tacoma  Bay 
was  covered  with  canoes  of  all  sizes,  laden  with  Indians,  their 
camping  outfits  and  dogs,  the  dogs  and  children  faring  alike  and 
together.  Besides  the  Indians  there  were  many  whites  in  the 
fields,  but  at  least  half  of  both  classes  were  of  a  kind  to  make  the 
city  tremble  with  their  wickedness  when  the  day's  work  was  done. 

Hop  vines  grew  to  great  size,  and  the  fields  were  like  shaded 
arbors,  the  merry  pickers  dodged  among  the  trellised  vines,  while 
nimble  fingers  gathered  the  harvest,  each  trying  to  outdo  the 
other  in  the  day's  work. 

The  Geo.  E.  Starr,  on  which  we  journeyed  around  the  sound, 
was  considered  a  veritable  floating  palace,  and  it  was  the  little 
steamer  that  President  Hayes  chartered  for  his  trip  around  Puget 
Sound.  Human  mind  can  scarcely  conceive  a  body  of  water  more 
beautiful  than  this  inland  sea,  with  its  2500  miles  of  shore  line 
bending  in  and  out  to  make  its  myriads  of  bays  and  trysting  places 
for  the  ships  of  commerce  and  the  joys  of  seafaring. 

The  straits  of  San  Juan  de  Fuca  is  the  ninety-five  mile  neck  of 
water  connecting  the  sound  and  the  sea,  and  although  its  thirteen 
miles  in  average  width  narrows  down  to  only  eight  miles  at  its 
mouth,  there  is  no  treacherous  bar  of  sand  and  rocks  as  there  is 
at  the  mouth  of  the  Columbia.  Neither  are  there  hidden  rocks 
or  shoals  where  danger  lurks  unseen.  The  rise  and  fall  of  the 
tide  is  about  eighteen  feet,  and  the  water  of  the  sound  is  deep  to 
the  very  shore  line,  making  it  possible  for  deep  sea  vessels  to  go  to 
shore  at  will.  Evergreen  islands  lift  their  emerald  heads  at  fre- 
quent intervals  in  contrast  to  the  distant  setting  of  the  snowy 
Olympics  and  the  stately  Mt.  Rainier,  Mt.  Baker,  and  other  silver 
peaks  that  crown  the  wooded  shore  line. 

It  seemed  incredulous  that  any  one  could  be  hopelessly  lost 
in  a  thicket  within  ten  feet  of  the  water,  but  it  would  be  true  if 
one  had  not  the  knowledge  that  the  water  must  be  down  the  slope. 
So  dense  is  the  growth  of  vines  and  shrubs,  so  luxuriant  and  yet  so 
tall  that  one  must  mark  his  way  by  cutting  a  passage  or  blazing 
the  trees  if  he  would  return  again  to  the  same  starting-point. 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound 


355 


Wild  berries  grew  in  profusion — blackberries  as  large  as  our 
eastern  wild  plum,  and  hazelnuts  actually  grew  on  trees.  There 
were  a  lot  of  hazel  burrs  on  the  ground,  and  looking  for  their 
source  we  discovered  ourselves  standing  under  a  hazelnut  tree  not 
less  than  fifty  feet  high,  and  myriads  of  the  burrs  were  clinging 
to  the  branches  way  beyond  the  hope  of  getting  them. 

The  first  steam  sawmill  built  on  the  sound  was  in  Seattle, 
in  1853,  by  H.  L.  Yesler,  and  had  a  capacity  of  15,000  feet  per  day, 
a  marked  contrast 
to  a  mill's  capac 
ity  for  191 1,  but 
there  was  small 
demand  for  lum- 
ber in  Mr.  Yesler's 
earlier  years  of 
pioneering.  The 
greatest  manufac- 
tory that  Seattle 
had  in  1880  was 
for  the  making  of 
barrels,  and  the 
tall  Cottonwood 
trees  were  sliced, 
moulded,  andbent 
into  two  thousand 
barrels  a  day. 

The  county  jail 
had  its  quota  of 
inmates  but  they 
were  dry  shod, 
while  people  on 
the  outside  waded 
about  ankle  deep 
in  mud,  climbed  slippery  hills  and  absorbed  climate  until  man  and 
the  native  elements  of  soil  and  water  were  so  mingled  in  person- 
ality that  it  was  hard  to  distinguish  one  from  the  other,  to  say 
nothing  of  separating  them.  It  was  a  place  for  an  optimist  to 
dream  of  maritime  power,  to  peer  into  the  future  and  build  great 
commercial  docks,  and  hold  the  key  of  the  great  Northwest  for 
both  Orient  and  Occident.     To  dream — yes,  then,  but  now  to 


Growing  hops  and  hop-pickers 


35^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

realize — to  see  the  miles  of  paved  streets,  miles  of  warehouses, 
miles  of  docks,  miles  of  ships,  and  miles  of  steam  cars,  and 
miles  of  electric  motors,  is  a  dream  come  true  beyond  the  hope 
of  man  in  1880. 


Chief  Seattle  for  whom  the  city  of  Seattle  was  named 

The  city  of  Seattle  was  named  after  the  Indian  Chief  Seattle, 
who  with  his  daughter.  Princess  AngeHne,  were  noted  characters 
for  many  years  and  were  known  by  all  the  residents  of  the  upper 
Sound  country. 

The  sound  cities  did  not  have  the  thrill  of  energetic  forces 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound  357 

brought  in  by  the  ox  teams  or  mule  teams,  with  their  covered 
wagons  and  loads  of  merchandise  and  bedraggled  appendages,  but 
they  watched  the  sea  craft  throw  out  their  mal  de  mer  humanity 
to  lose  itself  in  the  forests,  to  come  out  again  loyal  devotees  of 
the  place  of  their  adoption.  Perchance  one  might  stand  veiled 
in  his  own  wrath  and  be  stuck  in  the  mud  until  the  blue  air  about 
his  head  and  the  clinging  mass  about  his  feet  fairly  won  his 
affection  by  their  very  tenacity  and  kept  him  there  even  when  the 
streets  were  paved  under  him. 

Many  a  man  of  the  interior  who  has  led  civilization  will  take 
up  his  belongings  and  move  on  to  a  new  wilderness  when  the  iron 
horse  invades  his  solitude  and  brings  its  commercial  and  social 
changes  and  responsibilities.  He  loves  the  wild  free  life  of  the 
Bohemian  and  follows  in  its  quest.  The  man  by  the  sea  is  dif- 
ferently constituted;  there  is  an  odor  of  the  sea  that  holds  him 
enthralled;  he  loves  the  swish  and  roar  of  the  water;  he  loves  the 
mist,  the  rain,  and  the  mud.  The  ceaseless  motion  of  the  ocean 
waves  quiets  his  own  overcharged,  restless  body  and  mind,  and 
he  finds  a  content  that  commerce  and  civilization  cannot  change. 

The  first  shipment  of  lumber  from  the  sound  consisted 
of  a  cargo  of  piles  in  1851,  by  one  Lafayette  Balch,  for  which 
he  paid  eight  cents  per  running  foot,  delivered  to  the  vessel, 
and  which  brought  him  one  dollar  per  running  foot.  The  first 
sawed  lumber  was  shipped  by  James  McAllister  and  sold  in  San 
Francisco  for  fifty  dollars  per  thousand  feet.  In  1880  there  were 
125,000,000  feet  of  lumber  shipped  from  the  sound. 

The  trees  grew  so  tall,  so  straight,  and  stately  that  it  was  a 
sacrilege  to  nature  to  hew  them  with  an  ax  or  saw ;  it  seemed  like 
striking  down  our  own  great  people  in  the  very  hour  of  perfec- 
tion. There  is  no  other  place  in  the  world  where  so  many  trees 
are  transported  for  shipmasts,  unless  it  may  be  far  away  Norway. 
And  now  steamers,  barks,  schooners,  great  warships,  and  many 
other  kinds  of  water  craft  are  made  and  completed  here  of  such 
strength  and  texture  as  has  long  since  proved  the  value  of  the 
woods  of  the  great  Northwest. 

Across  the  sound  from  Seattle,  Port  Townsend  reminded  one  of 
Mackinaw,  away  off  in  northern  Michigan.  The  sleepy  villagers, 
the  occasional  squaw  and  papoose,  the  military  fort  perched  on  a 
cliff,  and  the  long  stairway  leading  to  the  best  residential  portion 
were  novel  features  of  the  home  beside   the  sea.     From  the 


35S         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


heights  one  could  look  down  upon  the  commercial  part  of  the  town 
and  across  to  the  opposite  bluff,  where  the  "boys  in  blue"  stood 
at  duty's  call,  and  then  the  gaze  floated  across  to  the  British 
lands. 

The  incoming  Victoria  steamer  had  such  a  furious  wind  to 
battle  against  the  day  we  were  in  Port  Townsend  that  she  called 
to  our  boat  to  come  out  to  sea  for  her  cargo,  and  together  they 
__ ._  went  about  eight  miles  into 

a  sheltered  cove  to  exchange 
their  mails  and  freight. 

A  few  hours  later,  when  the 
wind  had  somewhat  abated, 
we  boarded  the  old  Eliza  Ann 
and  started  across  the  straits 
to  Victoria,  but  when  about 
a  third  of  the  way  over  the 
captain  would  not  take  the 
risk  of  getting  the  old  boat 
safely  through  the  storm,  and 
he  turned  back  to  anchor 
again  at  Townsend.  To  La- 
conner  and  Whatcom  there 
was  a  mail  boat  once  in  two 
weeks,  but  in  the  few  years 
intervening  Whatcom  has  lost 
its  identity  in  the  rhythmic 
melody  of  Bellingham,  and  has  its  scores  of  daily  steamers 
tooting  in  the  harbor  oblivious  of  the  ages  of  silence  that  were 
broken  only  by  the  booming  waves  upon  the  shore. 

Oysters  and  clams  are  plentiful  on  the  sound,  but  the  native 
oysters,  though  very  good,  would  make  a  Baltimorian  turn  his 
head  to  smile,  for  they  are  not  the  fat,  plump  bivalves  of  our 
eastern  shores,  as  they  are  no  larger  than  a  silver  dime,  and  even 
that  size  would  be  a  big  one.  However,  in  these  later  days 
the  eastern  oyster  transplanted  to  these  western  inlets  results 
in  the  most  tender  and  delicious  morsel  in  all  oysterdom*. 

Port  Townsend  is  so  situated  that  it  feels  the  first  throb  of  the 
commercial  life  as  it  comes  through  the  straits  of  Fuca  and  it  was 
there  where  all  sea  craft  must  clear  and  enter.  It  was  the  great 
entrepot  of  all  the  Northwest,  yet  why  the  town  has  never  risen 


Princess  Angeline,  a  daughter  of  Chief 
Seattle 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound 


359 


above  its  station  of  those  days  seems  hard  to  understand.  Per- 
haps it  will  some  day  awaken  from  its  Rip  Van  Winkle  sleep  and 
wield  the  power  that  is  its  own  by  location,  but  lacks  the  energy 
and  persistent  effort  to  sustain. 

Tucked  away  down  at  the  southwest  end  of  the  sound  the 
territorial  capital,  Olympia,  nestled  cosily  on  the  sea-kissed  shore. 
Why  the  capital  of  so  great  a  territory  should  be  there  I  do  not 


The  largest  tide-land  spruce  in  the  world,  nearly  33  feet  in  circumference 


think  any  one  could  tell  then  or  now.  It  had  some  attractive 
scenic  features  and  was  famous  for  its  oysters.  The  De  Chutes 
river  emptied  into  Budd's  inlet,  about  a  mile  and  a  half  from 
town,  with  a  fall  of  eighty  feet  in  the  last  half  mile  of  its  course, 
furnishing  a  thousand  horse-power  for  the  mill  burrs.  These 
falls  were  in  a  picturesque  location,  embodied  now  in  a  glorious 
city  park,  the  natural  beauties  of  which  are  unexcelled. 

The  town  had  a  fine  water  supply,  wooded  shores,  and  pleasant 
drives,  and  such  few  advantages  as  a  capital  city  offers,  but  the 
query  still  stands:  "Why  is  the  capitol  of  so  great  a  State 
hidden  away  in  an  oyster  bed,  where  ships  of  sea  draft  can  anchor 


360         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


only  at  high  tide?"  But  for  all  its  little  tuckaway  retreat,  it 
was  a  pretty  little  town  of  two  thousand  people,  with  aspirations, 
some  of  which  have  since  been  realized. 

The  sound  fisheries  were  then  as  much  of  an  interesting  study 
as  they  are  to-day,  though  of  far  less  magnitude.  The  chief 
fishing  was  for  salmon,  but  there  were  cod,  herring,  sturgeon. 


BB^^^^^^ ..  Jki     ^^^ 

1    '< 

ffi         ^ ' ' 

Drying  and  mending  fish-nets  on  Puget  Sound 

flounder,  perch,  sardines,  and  many  other  kinds  of  sea  food. 
Now  also  halibut  are  caught  in  large  numbers. 

The  shipments  of  canned  salmon  did  not  exceed  six  hundred 
thousand  cases  in  a  season,  and  now  one  firm  alone  puts  up  ten 
thousand  cases  daily.  A  trip  on  a  steam  yacht  to  the  traps  to 
see  how  the  fish  are  caught  and  then  follow  them  into  the  can  is  an 
educational  achievement  not  to  be  ignored.  At  certain  seasons 
there  was  fine  sport  trolling  from  the  deck  of  a  steam  launch 
and  pulling  in  the  tom-cod,  salmon,  and  other  big  fish  that 
would  weigh  as  much  as  the  fisherman  himself,  or  at  least  one 
seemed  that  heavy  on  the  end  of  a  line. 

We  were  indebted  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  C.  X.  Larabee  for  such  a 
treat  in  a  later  year.     Everybody  knows  Mr.  Larabee  from  his 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound  361 

famous  Montana  horse  ranch  and  great  mining  exploits  in  Mon- 
tana to  his  townsite  scheme  on  Bellingham  Bay  with  his  stately 
hotel,  and  his  later  exploits  in  Portland's  financial  field. 

With  half  a  dozen  lines  trailing  behind  our  gently  moving 
steamer  there  grew  a  great  rivalry  among  the  fishermen  for  first 
place,  and  the  landing  of  the  first  fish.  But  the  excitement  of 
first  place  was  all  lost  in  the  tension  of  landing  the  fish,  and  I  was 
surprised  to  be  obliged  to  hand  my  line  to  stronger  arms  to  land 
my  ten  pound  tom-cod  and  my  eleven  pound  salmon.  Pard 
declined  such  unsportsmanlike  fishing  and  was  the  butt  of  a 
score  of  jests  because  he  used  only  his  light  trout  rod  and  line 
from  a  canoe,  and  took  two  hours  to  land  his  three  ten  and 
twelve  pound  salmon,  which  he  ultimately  did  without  breaking 
rod  or  line. 

When  our  party  gathered  for  the  evening  to  talk  over  the 
events  of  the  day's  fishing  and  compare  them  with  other  ex- 
periences, every  one  was  surprised  at  the  silence  of  one  member  of 
the  party,  who  was  generally  in  the  foremost  rank  of  story  tellers, 
and  when  he  was  summoned  to  do  his  share  of  the  entertaining 
he  told  a  story  entitling  him  to  the  champion  prevaricator's  belt. 

The  old  rounder  cast  a  glance  around  the  room  to  see  that  he 
was  given  the  proper  attention  then  said:  "Well,  friends,  I  had 
a  little  experience  of  my  own  once  that  just  knocks  the  color  off 
these  salmon  of  to-day.  I  went  up  Hood's  Canal  to  visit  an 
old  friend.  He  had  often  told  me  of  the  splendid  fishing  there, 
and  I  was  anxious  to  try  it.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  I  got 
there,  and  I  retired  early,  so  as  to  be  ready  for  the  fun  next  day. 
I  asked  how  far  it  was  to  the  creek,  and  they  told  me  it  was  only 
a  few  hundred  yards,  just  beyond  the  fence.  Before  light  next 
morning  I  was  up,  and,  securing  a  good  tackle  and  a  little  bait, 
started  off  toward  the  creek.  The  fog  was  heavy,  for  it  was  woods 
burning  time  and  I  could  not  see  any  distance  ahead  of  me,  so 
groped  my  way  as  best  I  could  across  the  little  clearing.  Reach- 
ing the  fence  I  climbed  over,  and  picked  my  way  carefully,  for  I 
did  not  want  to  fall  in  the  creek.  I  proceeded  slowly  down  the 
slope  until  I  thought  I  must  be  near  the  water's  edge.  Baiting 
my  hook  I  threw  it  forward,  and  just  about  time  enough  for  it  to 
strike  the  water  I  felt  a  pull,  and  with  a  jerk  I  brought  in  a  fine 
fellow.  For  ten  minutes  I  stood  there  and  pulled  them  in,  and 
then,  fearing  that  I  would  spoil  the  day's  sport,  I  regretfully 


362         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

returned  and  by  accident  reached  the  house  through  the  fog. 
After  breakfast  the  fog  Hfted  and  we  got  ready  for  a  day's  enjoy- 
ment. You  may  imagine  my  surprise  when,  on  going  to  the 
place  where  I  had  caught  so  many  fish  early  in  the  morning,  I 
found  that  it  was  a  full  hundred  yards  from  the  bank  of  the  creek. 
The  truth  is,  I  had  not  touched  the  water  but  just  stood  there  and 
caught  them  out  of  the  fog." 

For  an  instant  or  two  there  was  a  dead  silence,  then  as  the 


Mt.  Rainier  as  seen  from  the  waters  of  the  Sound 

rumble  and  roar  of  life  began  to  manifest  itself  again,  our  friend 
slipped  out  of  the  door  and  did  not  show  up  again  until  the  next 
day,  when  he  could  feel  reasonably  safe  from  lynching. 

It  was  said  there  were  only  two  seasons  on  the  sound,  the 
wet  and  the  dry,  and  we  surely  struck  the  wet  season ;  yet  the  days 
were  not  full  of  rain,  for  there  were  many  rifts  in  the  clouds  where 
the  sun  came  through  to  gladden  our  hearts  and  to  encourage 
us  to  renewed  action. 

Washington  Territory,  with  its  60,000  people,  was  a  bud  of 
promise  that  needed  no  grafting.  It  was  the  best  timbered  and 
watered  land  between  the  two  great  seas.  Its  snowy  peaks  fed 
perpetual  springs  and  hid  treasures  untold;  its  sunny  slopes 
afforded  the  finest  grazing  lands;   and  its  broad  valley  acres 


Portland  and  Puget  Sound  363 

waving  in  the  golden  grain  nodded  joyously  to  distant  lands  to 
hush  the  cry  for  bread. 

Seattle  was  a  veritable  mudhole  with  its  cowpath  streets 
meandering  over  the  hills,  and  giving  but  little  sign  of  the  com- 
mercial metropolis  it  is  to-day.  Our  feet  came  out  of  the  mud 
with  a  sock-sock-sock  that  was  as  ludicrous  as  it  was  annoying, 
and  as  we  steamed  out  southward  again,  I  sang  out  to  oiu*  new- 
found friends: 

"  You  may  sing  your  songs  of  the  shells  and  the  sea, 
But  the  hills  and  the  vales  ring  their  bells  for  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
A  NON-STRIKABLE  UNION 


<S'ffl 


HERE  were 
many  in- 
ducements 
offered  to 
have  us  visit 
K  1  amat  h 
Falls  in 
southwest- 
ern Oregon. 
The  beauty 
and  grand- 
eur of  the  trip  were  painted  in  most  glowing  terms  and  the 
temptation  seemed  almost  too  great  to  resist.  We  could  not  see, 
however,  that  Pard's  company  interests  would  be  advanced  at 
that  time,  as  there  could  not  be  any  railroad  in  that  direction 
for  many  years,  and  in  spite  of  the  wonderful  resources  in  the 
locaHty  we  decided  not  to  use  oiu:  time  that  way.  Besides  the 
season  was  too  late. 

It  was  no  sooner  decided  in  the  negative  than  our  friends 
began  telHng  some  different  stories  about  the  country.  First 
and  foremost  it  was  the  breeding  land  of  snakes.  The  shiny, 
crawling  reptiles  were  so  numerous  they  could  be  taken  up  by 
the  shovel  full,  and  their  little  heads  would  glisten  from  every 
crevice.  A  photograph  taken  at  Klamath  in  recent  years  shows 
a  good,  steady  increase  from  that  time  up  to  the  present  day,  and 
if  the  new  summer  home  of  the  late  Mr.  Harriman  at  Pelican 
Lodge,  on  Klamath  Lake,  shares  the  fate  of  more  humble  habita- 
tions in  that  locality  its  occupant  will  doubtless  some  day  find 
snakes  wound  around  the  mirrors,  adorning  the  walls,  hanging 
from  the  chandeliers,  and  creeping  into  his  own  warm  bed,  to  say 
nothing  about  clogging  the  chimneys,  raising  their  families  in 

364 


A  Non-Strikable  Union 


365 


unused  stoves,  and  vieing  with  the  pet  cat  for  the  cushioned 
chairs. 

They  may  haunt  the  dreams  and  clothespress  of  Mr.  Ham- 
man's  successor  but  they  have  the  one  great  virtue  of  being  harm- 
less for  if  they  are  plentiful,  they  are  non-poisonous  and  playful. 
He  may  really  become  quite  attached  to  the  slippery  fellows  and 
go  back  East  with  his  pockets  full  of  them.  It  may  be  that  the 
railroad  magnates  have  heard  of  the  great  profits  in  snakes  and 


A  happy  family  near  Klamath  on  a  sunny  day 


go  into  their  domain  to  work  up  a  snake  trust.  The  greatest 
inducement  any  one  could  have  in  organizing  this  particular 
snake  trust  is  that  in  spite  of  the  great  unions  among  them  they 
never  strike. 

This  possible  solicitude  upon  the  part  of  captains  of  industry 
not  to  let  a  good  deal  even  in  such  livestock  as  snakes  get  away 
was  probably  suggested  by  the  experience  of  a  local  dealer 
at  Klamath  who  started  in,  not  very  long  ago,  to  build  up  a 
permanent  traffic  in  this  line. 

Some  firm  in  St.  Paul,  hearing  of  the  great  abundance  of  these 
reptiles  at  Klamath,  and  having  some  special  use  for  snakes  by 
the  wholesale,  wrote  to  the  local  merchant  offering  to  take  all  the 


366         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

live  snakes  he  could  ship,  at  a  price  which  was  very  attractive. 
The  Klamath  man  lost  no  time  in  raking  up  a  ton  of  snakes,  large, 
small,  and  indifferent,  and  shipping  them  by  express  as  directed 
to  his  correspondent.  The  snakes  were  shipped  in  boxes  of  con- 
venient size  for  handling,  and  seemed  to  be  fairly  well  content 
with  the  rough  usage  of  the  wagon  haul  to  the  railroad,  but,  after 
being  disposed  of  among  the  many  other  packages  in  the  warm 
express  car  on  the  Southern  Pacific,  they  limbered  up,  grew  un- 
easy, and  by  the  time  the  train  had  gotten  half  way  across  the 
Continent  the  smaller  ones  especially  had  wriggled  themselves  out 


The  Harriman  Lodge  on  Klamath  Lake 


of  the  boxes  all  over  the  car  floor,  and  many  of  them  had  crawled 
into  other  express  packages,  so  that  by  the  time  the  miscellane- 
ous consignments  were  delivered  to  their  respective  owners 
every  package  which  was  not  air  tight  and  under  seal  contained 
anywhere  from  one  to  half  a  dozen  good,  lively  snakes,  while  the 
snake  shipment  itself  reached  St.  Paul  minus  a  goodly  portion 
of  the  original  number. 

It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  consternation  of  the  recipients  of 
those  express  packages  and  the  stream  of  abuse  and  complaint 
which  was  showered  upon  the  railway  and  express  officials,  as 
well  as  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  St.  Paul  people  at  receiving  such 
short  measure. 


A  Non-Strikable  Union 


367 


The  upshot  of  this  snake  deal  was  that  no  temptation  in  the 
way  of  high  express  rates,  and  not  even  a  compulsory  order  upon 
the  part  of  the  Interstate  Commerce  Commission  could  induce 
the  railways  to  accept  any  more  snakes  for  shipment. 

On  Klamath  Lake's  wooded  shores  Mr.  E.  H.  Harriman 
bought  a  summer  home,  and  he  was  enchanted  with  the,  grand- 
eur of  the  environment. 

Doubtless  Mr.  Harriman,  if  he  had  lived,  with  his  long  ex- 
perience in  circumventing  business  situations  even  far  more 
refractory,  would  have  been  enabled  to  turn  this  superfluous 


A  party  of  pelicans 


supply  of  reptiles  to  a  good  purpose.  It  might  not  have  been  a 
ten  per  cent,  investment  but  something  that  would  grow.  But 
as  there  never  can  be  a  successor  to  that  gentleman  in  business 
acumen,  so  it  is  unlikely  that  Klamath  will  realize  adequately 
upon  this  unique  resource  for  many  years  to  come. 

Another  local  resource  which  will  doubtless  be  brought  to  the 
attention  of  those  looking  for  business  openings  may  call  for  some- 
what greater  ingenuity  to  utilize,  but  will  work  in  with  the  snake 
business.  This  is  the  great  showers  of  toads  which  sometimes 
descend  upon  Klamath,  and  which  are  swallowed  up  almost  on 
sight  by  the  snakes. 

Of  course  any  financier  of  acute  perception  who  might  wish 


368         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

to  combine  the  snake  and  toad  business  would  naturally  ship 
his  snakes  just  after  the  arrival  and  disposal  of  the  toads  by  these 
voracious  Klamath  enemies  of  theirs. 

Pelicans  just  dote  on  snakes  and  frogs,  and  from  the  moment 
the  birds  are  out  of  the  incubators  they  could  be  trained  as 
personal  attendants  for  Klamath  visitors  who  are  foolishly  sen- 
sitive about  snake  companionship.  They  could  also  be  trained 
as  house  pets  to  keep  snakes  out  of  the  bookcases  and  from 
under  the  sofa  pillows.  They  could  also  patrol  the  Klamath 
streets  and  see  to  it  that  the  cracks  in  the  board  walks  are  no 


Copyright 


hour  of  inspiration  at  Crater  Lake 


longer  ornamented  by  protruding  heads  of  the  many  bodies 
wriggling  underneath  as  in  days  of  yore. 

But  in  all  seriousness  too  much  cannot  be  said  of  the  natural 
wealth  and  beauty  of  the  Klamath  country  or  the  glories  of 
Crater  Lake.  With  its  better  railway  facilities  recently  afforded 
by  the  completion  of  the  Southern  Pacific  road  through  Klamath 
Falls,  the  great  government  projects  in  the  way  of  irrigation  and 
drainage  of  vast  areas  will  soon  make  Klamath  one  of  the  most 
important  agricultural  regions  in  the  whole  West  and  with  de- 
velopment of  local  water-power,  Klamath  Falls  bids  fair  to  be  the 
Spokane  of  Oregon.  The  railway  extension  referred  to  and  the 
co-operation  of  Uncle  Sam  in  rendering  the  wonders  of  Crater 


A  Non-Strikable  Union 


369 


Lake  National  Park  more  accessible  will  quickly  conspire  to 
send  thousands  of  tourists  to  enjoy  that  unique  wonderland  of 
southern  Oregon. 

And,  gentle  reader,  don't  let  what  I  have  written  about 
snakes  deter  you  from  considering  a  trip  or  a  permanent  loca- 
tion in  any  part  of  the  West.  Civilization  and  snakes  don't 
go  together.  The  rattlers  move  on  or  disappear  as  they  have 
always  done  and  Klamath  snakes  are  harmless  and  unsociable. 

It  is  in  southeastern  Oregon  where  Crater  Lake  lends  inimit- 
able charm  to  the  State's  attractions.     Its  mirrored  reflections, 


Crater  Lake's  phantom  ship  rises  two  hundred  feet  from  the  surface 

its  phantom  ship  rising  two  hundred  feet  above  its  midwater 
surface,  its  caves  in  the  shore  line,  and  its  grand  abutments  are 
a  combination  that  holds  the  eye  entranced.  But  it  has  a  rival 
for  mysterious  depths  and  chemical  actions  in  the  great  ice  cave 
of  a  central  Oregon  mountain.  When  it  was  discovered  men 
were  let  down  into  the  cavernous  depths  with  ropes  and  found 
a  large  body  of  ice.  In  the  course  of  time  means  were  provided 
to  get  the  ice  out  for  use  as  it  was  far  from  any  running  streams 
and  where  the  climate  was  too  mild  the  year  around  to  make 
ice.  It  is  a  better  investment  than  a  gold  mine,  for  now  the  ice 
is  exhausted  in  the  cave  every  day,  but  it  renews  itself  every 
twenty-four  hours,  much  to  the  consternation  of  the  chemists 
and  other  wise  men  who  have  studied  the  peculiar  phenomenon. 
24 


370         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

It  is  a  most  fortunate  dispensation  of  Providence  that  the 
snakes  in  south  Oregon  are  so  harmless,  for  it  is  not  the  case  in 
most  parts  of  Oregon.     On  Snake  and  Columbia  rivers  the  snakes 


Ice  Cave  near  Bend,  Oregon.    Ice  is  cut  every  day.     It 

freezes  over  night  and  next  day  there  is  the 

same  amount  of  ice  left 


are  rattlers,  and  one  has  small  desire  to  be  caught  out  on  a  warm 
night  with  a  rock  for  a  bed,  without  a  hair  rope,  else  that  peculiar 
buz-z-z-z  might  warn  him  against  turning  over  or  stretching  him- 
self too  suddenly. 

Rattlers  have  great  fear  of  one  another,  and  a  small  one  will 


A  Non-Strikable  Union  371 

always  run  from  a  large  one,  but  when  they  get  into  mortal  com- 
bat their  fighting  is  terrific ;  they  wind  around  one  another  until 
they  can  wind  no  more,  and  squeeze  one  another  to  the  limit 
of  their  strength. 

The  snakes  of  Arizona  and  most  of  the  southern  countries  are 
poisonous,  and  the  rattler  is  the  most  prevalent,  as  in  parts  of 
Montana  and  along  the  great  rivers.  In  the  rattler's  country 
one's  ear  is  always  attuned  to  catch  the  warning  *'buzz"  for  they 
never  strike  without  giving  notice  of  their  intent  if  given  any 
opportunity  to  do  so.  They  love  the  expansive  wastes  and  des- 
erts and  the  desolate  rocky  fastnesses.  Along  the  coulees  of  the 
Mississippi  and  the  upper  Missouri,  across  the  Mojave  and  the 
Colorado  deserts,  across  the  bad  lands  of  Montana,  and  through 
the  great  wheat  fields  of  Washington  and  Oregon,  and  along  the 
Snake  and  Columbia  river  lava  cliffs,  they  live  and  multiply  and 
fight  for  freedom  from  the  on-moving  civilization.  Rattlesnake 
dens  are  all  over  the  great  stretches  of  lava  beds,  and  one  man 
declared  that  he  saw  one  coil  of  rattlers  as  large  as  a  ten  gallon 
keg.     We  did  not  learn  his  Kentucky  brand. 

In  going  through  a  section  of  Montana  between  Helena  and  old 
Fort  Benton  I  heard  so  many  snake  stories  that  I  expected  every 
revolution  of  the  old  stage  wheels  to  throw  snakes  in  upon  us, 
and  I  was  glad  when  I  was  offered  a  chance  to  ride  on  the  top  boot 
and  be  out  of  range.  Bunches  of  them  would  coil  in  the  warm 
sand  in  the  middle  of  the  road,  causing  the  untamed  bronchos  to 
buck  and  jump  clear  off  the  road  in  one  wild  plunge.  The  driver 
was  one  who  had  pulled  the  ribbons  for  forty  years,  and  he 
was  an  adept  in  telling  impossible  things.  He  thought  the  time 
propitious  for  telling  of  the  time  when  he  tried  to  drive  over  a 
bunch  of  snakes  and  after  he  had  been  past  them  a  spell  his  wagon 
tongue  began  to  swell ;  he  had  to  stop  and  get  another  and  leave 
"that  there  one"  behind  and  it  just  kept  on  a  swelling  until  it 
was  sent  to  a  sawmill  where  it  was  sawed  up  into  lumber  which 
made  over  one  thousand  feet  of  fine  hickory. 

Many  pioneers  are  obliged  to  get  their  living  off  the  country 
through  which  they  pass,  as  well  as  the  place  wherein  they  drive 
their  home  stakes.  First  and  foremost  comes  the  sturdy  little 
sagebrush  that  kindles  into  a  hot,  quick  fire.  It  burns  rapidly 
and  completely  but  it  engenders  a  fierce  hot  flame  that  gives 
much  warmth  and  hurries  the  wayside  meal.    The  streams  have 


372         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

mtdtitudes  of  the  finny  tribe,  the  foothills  are  filled  with  antelope 
and  deer,  and  the  lakes  are  covered  with  feathered  game  in  the 
great  unfrequented  trails;  but  on  the  open  stretch  of  arid  land 
the  buffalo  and  the  rattlesnake  have  been  the  saviours  of  many- 
lives.  It  would  seem  to  one  unaccustomed  to  hardships  that 
to  eat  snakes  would  be  the  ditch  of  last  resort,  but  through 
necessity  it  became  a  custom  that  has  prevailed  down  to  the 
present  day. 

The  hunter  for  the  rattlers  for  food  must  catch  them  unawares, 
which  is  usually  done  with  a  forked  stick  fastened  down  quickly 


Ready  for  business 

over  the  head,  for  when  a  rattler  is  cornered  and  has  to  fight  for 
its  life  it  will  quickly  commit  suicide  by  piercing  its  own  body 
with  its  poisonous  fangs,  and  will  soon  die.  There  is  no  poison 
in  the  snake  flesh  unless  the  reptile  is  allowed  to  bite  itself  and  then 
it  is  destroyed  for  food  purposes.  For  roasting  they  are  skinned 
and  cut  into  small  pieces  and  held  over  the  campfire  until  they 
are  crispy  brown,  then  seasoned  with  salt  and  pepper.  If  there 
are  more  conveniences  for  preparing  them  they  can  be  baked  with 
butter,  pepper,  and  salt,  or  fried  in  a  skillet. 

The  snake  meat  is  white  and  tender  and  Mrs.  Frederick 
Burbidge  now  of  Spokane,  when  entertaining  a  party  from  New 
York  in  her  Montana  home,  served  them  a  rattlesnake  salad. 
She  had  the  kindness  to  tell  her  guests  what  it  was  that  they 


A  Non-Strikable  Union 


373 


might  refuse  it  if  they  desired.     It  certainly  was  a  novelty  that 
they  will  never  forget. 

Indians  will  eat  snakes,  coyotes,  grasshoppers,  dogs,  crickets, 
and  lice,  all  of  which  I  have  seen  them  do. 


First  post-office  west  of  the  Rockies,  built  at  Astoria  in  1847 


CHAPTER  XXX 


FROM  THE  FROZEN  NORTH  TO  THE  SUNNY  SOUTH 


HE  steamer  State 
of  California  of 
the  Pacific 
Steamship  Com- 
pany, lying  laz- 
ily at  the  Port- 
land  dock, 
rocked  gently 
in  rhythm  to  the 
wheeling  of 
trucks  that 
rolled  on  freight 
and  baggage  for 
the  San  Fran- 
cisco voyage. 
The  old  Cali- 
fornia was  a 
floating  palace 
for  the  Pacific, 

with  its  340  feet  of  length  and  38-foot  beams.  We  felt  like 
lovers  in  a  story  book,  starting  out  for  Fairyland,  when  we 
were  snugly  settled  in  our  stateroom. 

The  wharf  was  crowded  to  its  limit  with  curious  spectators 
to  say  good-bye  to  departing  ones — some  laughing,  some  crying, 
some  with  quivering  voices  and  cheery  smiles,  and  many  with  an 
air  of  curious  indifference  who  railed  and  jeered,  or  stood  with 
stolid  gaze.  The  whistle  of  warning  sent  visitors  quickly  ashore, 
the  gangplank  was  withdrawn,  and  with  the  brusque  command 
*' Let  go  the  stern  line"  we  glided  gently  out  to  midstream  amidst 
loud  shouts  and  waving  hands  and  handkerchiefs.  Our  flag 
was  unfurled  to  the  breeze  and  steadily  and  merrily  we  sailed 

374 


Tillamook  Rock,  the  graveyard  of  the  Pacific 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South  375 


away  on  our  first  steamship  voyage  and  first  journeys  are  full 
of  joys  that  pale  with  repetition. 

Down  the  Willamette  River  for  twenty  miles,  then  out  into 
the  broad  Colum- 
bia the  sturdy  en- 
gine puffed  and 
steamed  down  to 
the  ancient  town 
of  Astoria,  where 
we  anchored  for 
the  high  tide  of 
the  morrow  to 
cross  the  treach- 
erous Columbia 
bar.  Astoria  is 
not  ancient  in  the 
sense  that  Rome 
is  ancient,  but  for 
our  own  West  it 
is  old  and  dates 
back  to  181 1, 
when  John  Jacob 
Astor  established 
a  trading  post 
there  and  named 
it  for  himself. 

Along  the  water 
front  the  build - 
ings  stood 
perched  on  long 
piles  in  the  deep 
water  that  the 
largest  ships 
might  anchor 
near  them  for  car- 
goes. We  took  aboard  two  thousand  cases  of  canned  salmon 
for  the  San  Francisco  market,  and  in  those  days  that  was  con- 
sidered a  mammoth  shipment.  The  very  first  export  of  the 
Pacific  Coast  was  from  Astoria,  being  a  consignment  of  stur- 
geon eggs  to  Germany  for  making  caviare. 


Cigar  Rock,  Columbia  River 


376        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

It  was  through  Astoria  that  one  reached  the  great  summer 
resort  of  Oregon,  the  envy  of  Califomians,  Clatsop  Beach,  with 
its  twenty  miles  of  shore  line  and  its  background  of  green  mea- 
dows; with  wooded  mountains  sloping  to  the  sea  and  its  singing 
waterfalls  dancing  in  delight  at  the  plunge  into  old  ocean,  it 
made  a  resort  that  any  State  might  envy. 

While  lying  at  anchor  in  midstream,  waiting  for  the  propi- 
tious hour  to  cross  the  bar,  a  sharp,  quick  bell  started  officers  and 


Movable  fish  wheel  on  the  Columbia 


men  from  the  breakfast  table,  and  blanched  faces  and  terror- 
stricken  passengers  went  searching  for  cause  of  the  emergency 
call.  A  dense  fog  filled  the  morning  air,  and  through  the  heavy 
cloud  we  saw  a  darker  line  moving  across  our  bow,  and  with  bated 
breath  we  waited  for  its  clearance.  It  was  a  Government  boat 
loaded  with  dynamite  and  nitroglycerine,  and  it  crossed  with 
only  three  inches  between  us  and  eternity.  It  was  the  nearest 
approach  to  oblivion  that  the  California  ever  had.  The  passengers 
and  crew  were  nearly  dumb  with  fear  when  the  dark  streak  had 
moved  on  into  the  low-lying  clouds,  and  it  was  several  minutes 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South   377 

before  the  hum  of  talk  and  laughter  was  again  heard  on  the 
decks. 

Few  ever  cross  the  Columbia  bar  without  mixed  feelings  of 
anxiety  and  fear  and  after  the  episode  of  the  passing  ship  all  the 
tales  of  horror  were  told  that  any  one  could  recall.  It  had  not 
been  very  long  since  the  Lupala  had  been  wrecked  in  crossing  the 
bar  and  the  place  was  pointed  out  near  Tillamook  Head  where 
twelve  bodies  from  the  ill-fated  ship  had  been  found.  Tall  masts 
of  sunken  crafts  marked  the  resting  place  of  other  ships  until 
one  could  well  believe  that  the  treacherous  spot  could  truly  be 
called  the  graveyard  of  ships. 

The  fog  lifted  a  little  as  our  steamer  began  tossing  in  the 
twisted  currents  of  the  river  and  the  sea,  and  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  there  was  only  the  great  white  mass  swirling  like  the 
wings  of  a  cyclone.  The  waters  were  whipped  into  walls  of  foam 
that  swept  over  every  part  of  the  vessel  with  demoniacal  fury 
and  tossed  it  like  a  toy.  The  bow  would  spring  up  in  midair, 
wheel  about,  and  tip  straight  for  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  Our 
good  commander  told  us  it  was  as  bad  or  worse  than  any  passage 
he  had  ever  had. 

With  the  first  reel  of  the  ship  Pard  darted  past  me  with  his 
hands  pressed  tightly  to  his  breast,  as  if  the  "Spartan  Fox"  were 
clawing  at  his  vitals.  With  the  aid  of  the  deck  man  and  railings 
I  followed  him  to  the  stateroom  and  found  that  he  had  a  sudden 
call  to  "New  York"  as  Mark  Twain  would  express  it,  and  from 
that  hour  he  was  confined  to  his  bunk  for  the  whole  stormy 
voyage.  Our  sturdy  boat  safely  over  the  bar  at  last,  turned 
into  the  trough  of  the  sea  with  an  increasing  storm.  In  the 
midst  of  the  southward  journey  blades  of  the  propeller  were 
broken  and,  fearful  of  being  blown  into  shore  on  the  rocks,  the 
commander  headed  his  ship  for  midocean.  Five  days  passed 
before  we  sighted  the  Golden  Gate,  when  the  course  should  have 
been  covered  in  two  days.  The  staunch  old  California  had 
been  given  up  for  lost  and  rescuing  boats  had  been  out  for  two 
days  searching  for  tidings  of  her  whereabouts  when  we  sailed  into 
port. 

The  hotel  runners  at  wharves  and  trains  were  the  worst  lot  of 
roughs  who  were  ever  allowed  at  large.  Pard  staggered  through 
the  line  so  weakened  by  his  continued  illness  that  he  could  hardly 
walk.     Half  a  dozen  of  those  runners  would  grab  the  baggage  at 


37^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

one  time  and  it  required  strenuous  work  to  throw  them  off  and  get 
what  one  wanted.  Pard  made  all  kinds  of  threats,  although  he 
could  not  have  hurt  a  fly.  It  was  a  state  of  affairs  afterwards 
rectified  by  law,  much  to  the  credit  of  San  Francisco. 

The  city  of  the  Golden  Gate  had  much  to  be  proud  of,  even 
away  back  in  1880.  The  Palace  Hotel  and  the  Baldwin  were 
world  famous.  The  Palace  was  said  to  be  the  largest  hotel  in 
the  world  at  that  time.     Woodward's  Gardens,  with  its  large 


The  old  Cliff  House  and  a  glimpse  of  the  Golden  Gate 


collection  of  animals  alive  and  dead,  its  aquarium,  museum,  and 
amusements,  were  gotten  together  with  great  labor  and  almost 
endless  expense. 

The  United  States  mint  at  Fifth  Street  was  then  the  largest 
one  in  the  world,  and  its  machinery  was  the  most  efficient.  It 
was  a  fascinating  process  to  watch  the  gold  turned  through  its 
many  stages  into  coins  of  the  various  denominations,  and  it 
was  the  more  interesting  because  of  our  having  seen  the  gold 
first  taken  from  the  earth  as  ore  and  refined  into  the  bricks,  or 
as  nuggets  washed  out  of  some  creek  bed. 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South  379 

In  the  exhibition  room  were  many  rare  coins  and  curios. 
One  piece  was  coined  a  thousand  years  B.C.  One  bore  the  date 
of  the  time  of  Christ,  with  beautiful  engraving  representing  the 
marriage  feast  at  Cana,  in  Galilee.  There  was  a  silver  dollar 
of  Charles  III  that  lay  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  for  seventy 
years.  There  was  also  one  of  the  twelve  silver  dollars  that  was 
coined  in  1804  that  had  been  sold  five  different  times  and  the 
last  price  paid  for  it  was  $1400.  There  was  a  gold  spoon  taken 
from  Solomon's  Temple,  and  a  multitude  of  other  interesting 
things. 

Nearly  all  of  San  Francisco's  buildings  were  of  wood,  because 
they  were  considered  safer  in  times  of  earthquakes,  and  they 
little  thought  such  dire  disaster  would  ever  fold  the  boasted  city 
in  flames  and  wipe  it  from  the  earth. 

The  Golden  Gate  Park,  made  over  the  sand  dunes  of  ages, 
will  ever  be  the  pride  and  joy  of  Calif omians.  The  Cliff  House 
and  the  rocks  with  their  barking  seals  stretching  themselves  in 
the  sun,  or  dropping  like  lead  in  the  deep ;  the  long  sandy  beaches 
and  sea  island  views ;  the  cradled  waters  of  the  bay  and  its  rail- 
road arteries  teeming  with  life,  all  now  play  their  part  in  the  fas- 
cination to  build  again  a  greater  city  than  ever  on  the  restless 
foundation  at  the  great  western  gate. 

The  city  hall  was  a  combination  of  architectural  oddities,  as 
if  four  or  five  architects,  each  with  a  pet  plan,  had  built  a  portion 
of  it,  and  then  united  the  whole  with  passageways.  It  stood 
upon  a  triangular  lot,  and  on  the  Market  Street  side  were  the 
famous  sand  lots  of  the  loud  talking  Kearne3rites. 

San  Francisco  has  never  been  a  city  of  homes,  and  it  was  the 
only  city  in  the  world  that  had  as  many  restaurants  as  it  had 
saloons.  It  was  no  wonder  that  it  had  such  a  hoodlum  popula- 
tion to  take  hold  of  its  city  and  its  city  affairs;  they  were  of 
a  class  who  had  been  raised  in  the  streets  from  infancy  and 
grappled  at  any  straw  that  stirred  in  the  breeze  for  excitement 
and  change  and  those  who  were  staunch  and  true  to  right  princi- 
ples and  the  higher  life  were  made  to  feel  their  exclusiveness. 

We  cruised  around  San  Francisco  Bay  in  the  little  steamer 
McPherson,  just  as  tourists  do  at  this  later  day.  The  strongly 
fortified  Alcatraz,  with  the  black  bodied  cannons  upon  every 
eminence.  Goat  Island  with  its  military  reservation,  and  Angel 
Island,  with  its  sloping  green  swards,  were  the  pride  of  Califor- 


38o         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

nia.  Angel  Island's  summit,  with  its  seven  hundred  and  seventy 
feet  above  the  tide,  held  for  the  "boys  in  blue"  a  charming  re- 
treat in  its  sheltered  fortress.  The  islands  are  still  the  stronghold 
of  defence  for  our  western  coast  with  the  more  modern  equipment 
in  sunken  guns  and  electric  appliances.  But  one  does  not  need 
to  go  to  the  islands  to  see  the  wonderful  mechanism  of  modern 
warfare,  for  the  Presidio,  with  its  long  vista  enveloping  the 
Golden  Gate,  and  its  full  equipment  of  Khaki  boys  armed  with 
death-dealing  implements,  is  enough  to  impress  any  one  with 
the  magnitude  of  Uncle  Sam's  great  defences. 


Del  Monte — "  The  old  gnarled  sycamores  and  live-oak  trees  are  the  crowning 

glory  of  it  all" 

To  reach  Monterey  the  Central  Pacific  Company  had  built 
what  was  then  only  a  branch  road  from  San  Francisco  through 
the  beautiful  Santa  Clara  valley.  This  road  took  one  through 
San  Bueno  famous  hunting  grounds;  Milbrae,  the  home  of  D.  O. 
Mills;  San  Mateo,  which  had  the  miHtary  school  for  boys,  the 
Laurel  Institute  for  young  ladies,  and  many  elegant  homes  with 
well-kept  grounds.  Fair  Oaks  was  a  region  divided  into  parks, 
gardens,  and  orchards  of  rich  fruits  and  named  from  the  number 
of  live-oak  trees  of  great  grandeur  that  fill  the  locality.  Then 
came  Menlo  Park,  where  President  Hayes  and  General  Grant's 
parties  were  so  becomingly  and  generously  received.  Then  came 
Santa  Clara  and  San  Jose,  the  twin  cities  of  the  Santa  Clara 
valley  embowered  in  shrubbery  of  luxuriant  growth,  where  sweep- 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South  381 

ing  branches  interlocked  overhead,  leaving  long  archways  beneath 
for  drives  and  strolls  of  pleasure  or  traffic.  San  Jos^  was  the 
much  larger  town  because  of  the  mines  near  it  and  perhaps, 
too,  because  it  was  the  county  seat  and  had  several  collegiate 
institutions. 

The  glimmering  rails  twined  in  and  out  among  the  hills  and 
vales  for  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  miles  to  reach  the  languorous 
labyrinths  of  Monterey's  dreamland  and  Del  Monte. 

"Where  a  leaf  never  dies  in  the  still  blooming  bowers 
And  the  bee  banquets  on  through  a  whole  year  of  flowers." 

The  Del  Monte  Hotel  and  grounds  were  then  owned  by  the 
Southern  Pacific  Railroad  Company  and  it  spared  no  pains  to  in- 
duce the  travelling  public  to  frequent  the  sequestered  spot,  which 
has  grown  in  popularity  without  a  peer  in  all  our  land.  The  hotel 
stands  in  the  midst  of  a  hundred  acres  of  trees,  foliage, and  flowers, 
and  far-reaching  lawns.  White  oak,  cedar,  pine,  and  cypress,  and 
above  all  the  old  gnarled  sycamores  and  live-oak  trees,  that  are 
the  crowning  grandeur  of  it  all,  stretch  their  sheltering  arms  over 
vast  areas  and  make  one  wonder  if  Paradise  can  be  more  beautiful 
to  the  eye. 

The  town  of  Monterey  with  its  quaint  history  is  ever  an  in- 
teresting place.  I  love  every  old  ramble  shack  in  the  town  and 
I  am  not  a  bit  glad  to  see  the  modern  city  rising  in  its  stead.  It 
possesses  a  romantic  history  that  is  not  surpassed  by  any  city 
in  the  United  States.  The  soil  was  taken  possession  of  by  the 
King  of  Spain  in  1602,  but  it  was  nearly  one  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  years  later  that  a  permanent  white  settlement  was  first  estab- 
lished. It  has  passed  under  three  governments,  and  has  been 
the  scene  of  many  struggles  in  the  various  transitions. 

In  Monterey  the  first  newspaper  in  the  State  was  published, 
the  first  jury  impaneled,  the  first  sawed  lumber  house  built,  and 
the  first  brick  house,  and  it  had  the  first  United  States  post-office 
in  California.  Here  the  old  customs  house  was  started  in  1 8 1 4  by 
the  Spaniards,  and  completed  by  the  Americans;  here  was  the  first 
capital  of  California  and  here  the  first  constitutional  convention 
met.  Here,  too,  one  of  the  earliest  Missions  was  established  and 
landmarks  and  records  of  all  these  interesting  events  still  survive. 

The  first  missionaries  landed  in  1773  and  the  Franciscan 
Missions  mark  the  great  highway  from  San  Francisco  down 


382         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


into  Mexico.  The  old  monasteries  stand  just  a  day's  travel  apart 
and  the  road  is  marked  by  posts  bearing  mission  bells  on  pillared 
supports  all  along  the  highway. 

The  first  theatre  in  the  State  was  also  built  in  Monterey  and 
with  its  crumbling  adobe  walls,  its  simple  one  story,  with  doors 
and  windows  modelled  more  like  an  old  Morman  house  with  a  door 
for  each  wife,  is  a  strong  contrast  to  the  magnificent  playhouses 
of  the  present  day  that  are  glittering  with  gold  and  electrical 

scintillations.  It  shows  the 
mark  of  progress  that  has 
swept  over  the  State,  and  even 
Jenny  Lind  with  her  birdlike 
voice  who  graced  this  old 
theatre  might  find  herself 
mastered  by  stage  fright  on  a 
modern  platform. 

The  coast  line  of  California 
is  the  longest  of  any  State  in 
the  Union  and  its  two  mount- 
ain chains  run  nearly  the 
whole  length  of  the  State.  On 
the  highest  peaks  there  are 
perpetual  snows  whose  melting 
supplies  the  thousands  of 
streams  and  lakes  that  teem 
with  fish,  while  on  the 
mountainsides  the  heavy  tim- 
ber furnishes  a  covert  for  both 
large  and  small  game. 

There  is  no  equal  area  in  the 
world  that  contains  so  great  a 
variety  of  mineral  waters  as  California.  They  are  strung  from 
the  northern  to  the  southern  border,  and  their  curative  properties 
attract  thousands  of  visitors  from  every  country.  But  all  of  the 
State's  attractions  are  capped  by  the  old  town  of  Monterey 
which  holds  the  key  to  the  State's  history. 

The  San  Carmel  Mission  is  always  open  to  visitors.  Its  two 
great  towers  lend  dignity  to  the  structure,  and  the  walls  slope 
from  the  ground  to  the  roof  in  resemblance  of  the  Syrian  Mount 
Carmel.      Its  surroundings  are  enchanting,  with  water-carved 


**  The  sweet  face  of  Senorita  Bonifacio 
still  beams  under  the  rose  tree  " 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South   383 

rocks,  and  long  coast  rifts,  with  aged  trees  and  tottering  towers, 
while  beyond  are  the  broad  acres  and  distant  hills  that  once  re- 
sounded to  the  priestly  voices  that  ruled  among  them  and  now 
echo  only  in  the  sea  wind  as  it  moans  on  the  sands. 

In  its  churchyard  are  the  graves  of  fifteen  California  gover- 
nors, and  there  also  is  the  tomb  of  Junipero  Serra,  the  first  mis- 
sionary, who  died  in  1784.  The  records  of  this  Mission,  as  of 
all  Missions  along  the  coast  line,  are  of  great  value  to  the  State. 


In  the  cemetery  of  the  Santa  Barbara  Mission 


The  sweet  face  of  Senorita  Bonifacio  still  beams  under  the 
rose  tree  that  she  and  Gen.  W.  T.  Sherman,  when  a  young  lieu- 
tenant, planted  when  they  plighted  their  troth — he  to  forget 
and  she  to  live  alone,  forgotten,  but  loving  still  and  cherishing 
the  memory  of  her  unfaithful  troth. 

Monterey  was  the  home  of  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  for  two 
years  while  engaged  on  some  of  his  memorable  works  way  back 
in  1876-77. 

When  our  stay  was  ended  at  Del  Monte  there  were  yet  a  few 
hours  before  train  time  and  we  went  down  to  dip  our  hands  in 
the  Pacific  waters  and  test  its  temperature.     Our  baggage  had 


384         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

gone  on  a  previous  train  and  our  hand-bags  were  left  for  the 
porter  to  take  to  the  station. 

The  day  was  ideal  for  playing  in  the  sand  and  hunting  treas- 
ures along  the  tide- washed  beach.  Pard  warned  me  repeatedly 
not  to  go  nearer  the  water  than  the  wet  line  on  the  sand  and  I 
finally  knelt  in  impatience  at  the  water  line  and  reached  out  to- 
ward each  delusive  wave.  I  began  to  wonder  if  I  might  not  ven- 
ture just  a  little  nearer  when  old  Neptune  decided  for  me  by  rolling 
in  a  whopper  of  a  wave  that  lifted  me  off  the  ground  and  dropped 
me  down  again  ker  sock  with  the  water  up  to  my  shoulders,  and 


Hotel  Del  Coronado 

my  feet  were  buffeted  about  as  if  they  did  not  belong  to  me  at 
all.  Pard  was  some  distance  back  and  by  the  time  we  had  given 
some  lusty  yells  the  water  had  receded  and  he  ran  down  to  lift 
me  up.  The  wave  had  rolled  in  at  least  fifteen  feet  farther  up  on 
the  beach  and  left  me  half  buried  in  sand.  My  weight  was 
doubled  and  tripled  with  sand,  water,  and  salt,  and  as  Pard  hur- 
ried me  to  my  feet  he  solicitously  but  ironically  asked  if  I  was 
satisfied  with  the  temperature  of  the  water.  If  our  baggage  had 
not  gone  I  would  have  held  him  there  for  the  next  wave  to  pay 
him  for  his  sarcasm,  but  I  was  distressed  enough  about  my  own 
plight.  I  could  not  go  before  the  guests  of  the  hotel ;  we  had  no  bag- 
gage, and  the  train  due  to  leave  in  one  hour.  We  struggled  along 
through  the  heavy  sand  to  a  little  knoll  where  I  took  off  my  silk 
coat  and  hung  it  in  the  breeze.     Fortunately  my  dress  was  also  of 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South  385 

silk  and  was  readily  relieved  of  sand  and  salt  by  generous  switch- 
ing and  then  I  walked  along  the  hilltop  in  the  sun  whirling  my 
skirts  as  best  I  could  to  dry  them.  By  train  time  my  appear- 
ance was  quite  respectable  on  the  outside,  but  underneath,  oh, 
oh,  my  feelings  were  not  a  bit  respectable,  my  feet  were  sopping 
in  my  shoes,  my  clothing  clung  to  me  like  a  poultice,  and  I  was  in 
a  sea  of  torment  for  the  six  hours  we  were  en  route  to  'Frisco 
before  I  could  change  my  clothing. 

An  important  engagement  hurried  us  out  from  the  hotel  as 
soon  as  I  was  dressed,  but  strange  to  say  the  salt  saved  me  as  not 
even  a  cold  followed  the  baptism,  and  I  can  justly  say  that  the 
temperature  of  the  Pacific  is  erratic  but  mild. 

The  hue  and  cry  about  the  increased  rates  of  living  in  later 
days  seems  to  be  quite  out  of  place  in  view  of  an  old  '49  menu 
card  of  the  Ward  House — a  fashionable  resort  in  San  Francisco 
in  that  memorable  year — which  quoted  oxtail  soup,  $1 ;  roast 
beef,  $1;  lamb,  $1.25;  ranch  eggs,  $1  each;  roast  ciirlew,  $3; 
mashed  potatoes,  50  cents;  apple  pie,  75  cents;  rum  omelette, 
$2,  and  other  items  in  proportion. 

We  took  our  places  in  the  Silver  Palace  sleeping  car  of  the 
Southern  Pacific  road  at  Oakland  for  southern  California.  How 
delightful  it  was  to  glide  over  the  rails  with  such  rhythmic  motion, 
to  nestle  among  soft  cushions  and  have  real  pillows  to  support 
the  head,  to  have  conveniences  to  comb  one's  hair  and  brush 
the  teeth,  if  one  has  any,  and  to  sleep  in  a  comfortable  bunk 
without  fear  of  bumping  over  rocks  or  being  thrown  from  an 
easy  position. 

It  was  a  joyous  change  from  the  discomforts  of  a  stage-coach 
or  even  a  plunging  vessel,  and  it  was  worth  the  several  thousand 
miles  of  stage  travel  to  elevate  one  to  an  appreciation  of  such 
luxury.  The  little  stiff  day-coaches  of  Oregon  and  Washington 
were  a  comfort  not  to  be  maligned  in  comparison  to  the  stage- 
coach, but  here  was  luxury  unalloyed. 

I  was  just  floating  away  in  a  stupor  of  content  when  in  bustled 
a  short  woman  with  a  tall  voice.  She  was  clothed  in  mourning 
garb,  her  long,  black  veil  gracefully  chnging  to  a  rich,  heavy 
cloak.  Her  companion  was  a  slender  youth  upon  whom  she 
began  to  bestow  a  volley  of  messages  such  as,  "Oh,  tell  Mrs. 
Smith  I  got  here  with  my  head  on. "  "Oh,  tell  Mrs.  Smith  I  am 
most  dead."     "Oh,  tell  Mrs.  Smith  I  will  be  glad  to  get  out  of 

25 


386         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

this  horri(^ country. "  *'0h,  dear,  oh,  dear."  "Well,  good-bye, 
don't  forget  to  tell  her  I'm  most  dead. "  Her  voice  was  pitched 
as  high  as  possible  and  as  soon  as  the  cars  began  to  move  she 
began  to  call  the  porter  whom  she  named  George.  "  Oh,  George, 
can't  you  get  me  a  toddy,  I  am  so  weak  I'm  afraid  I'll  die." 
And  poor  George  was  called  every  five  minutes  to  make  the  car 
lighter,  or  warmer,  or  cooler,  then  she  added,  ''And  do  they  try 
to  starve  people  and  never  stop  for  supper?" 


Los  Angeles'  China  Town 


When  we  had  been  out  three  or  four  hours  she  turned  and 
asked  me  if  I  was  not  all  tired  out.  I  replied  that  I  should  be 
sorry  to  be  tired  out  so  early  in  the  journey.  "  Oh,  well,"  said  she, 
*'if  you  had  travelled  as  far  as  I  have  and  feel  as  I  do,  you  would 
not  be  so  composed.  Why,  I  have  come  all  the  way  from  Port- 
land, in  Oregon,  on  the  steamer  California,  and  I  was  sick  all  the 
way.  Oh,  dear  me! "  I  smiled  to  myself  but  did  not  tell  her  that 
we  were  on  the  same  steamer.  No  one  in  the  car  was  spared  her 
sallies  and  it  was  generally  decided  that  she  was  having  the  first 
trip  of  her  life. 

At  last  she  began  to  call  for  ice ;  she  must  have  some  ice  or  she 
would  die.     "George"  repeatedly  told  her  there  was  not  a  bit  of 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South   387 

ice  on  the  train,  but  that  only  made  her  want  it  the  more.  An  ac- 
commodating passenger  finally  assured  her  by  saying  he  would  get 
some  for  her  the  first  time  the  train  stopped  and  from  that  time  on 
he  was  kept  hunting  for  ice  at  every  station.  Where  he  got  it  no 
one  knew.  At  last  even  the  accommodating  passenger  said  he 
could  not  get  any  more,  but  as  night  came  on  and  she  still  kept  up 
her  cry  for  ice  the  gracious  gallant  grew  impatient  at  her  demands 
and  ingratitude  and  told  her  that  he  did  not  dare  to  bring  any 


The  Oriental  costumes  were  novel  and  the  wearers  were  complacent 

more  for  fear  the  body  would  not  keep  to  the  end  of  the  journey. 
She  turned  her  great  big  eyes  upon  him  with  a  look  of  horror, 
then  she  gave  one  big  scream  and  settled  down  into  her  seat 
wholly  subdued  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  and  the  ice  man  made 
no  more  trips  to  the  baggage  car.  The  train  had  stopped  for  a 
late  supper  at  Lathrop  and  soon  after  that  we  were  all  tucked 
away  for  the  night  with  only  an  occasional  plaintive  cry  for 
''George"  to  disturb  our  slumbers. 

In  the  early  morning  we  took  seats  on  the  rear  platform  of 
the  end  sleeper  to  watch  the  winding  of  the  road  among  the  foot- 
hills and  after  passing  through  the  seventeenth  tunnel  we  reached 
Tehachapi  Pass  which  made  a  strange  winding  and  doubling  of 


388         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

tracks.  First  we  saw  the  road-bed  nearly  a  hundred  feet  above 
us,  then  with  a  sudden  whirling  about  we  saw  the  glinting  rails 
as  far  below.  The  wheels  creaked  and  groaned  as  we  rounded 
the  loop  and  found  ourselves  on  the  top  of  a  mountain  four 
thousand  feet  above  sea-level.  The  surrounding  mountains  were 
wild  and  broken  with  dwarf  trees  and  grassy  slopes,  but  we  de- 
scended into  the  Mojave  Desert,  a  barren  waste  that  stretched 
far  to  the  horizon  and  dispelled  the  dreams  of  tropical  foliage 
which  we  had  been  longing  to  see. 

From  the  Mojave  breakfast  station  south  there  was  a  scatter- 
ing of  cacti  and  plenty  of  greasewood  and  sand.  Mexican  huts 
were  sprinkled  here  and  there  on  the  bluffs  and  as  the  cliffs  grew 
more  imposing  they  seemed  the  fitting  abode  of  renegades,  and 
the  locality  was  best  known  by  the  name  of  Robbers'  Roost. 

The  little  town  of  Lang  marks  the  spot  where  the  last  spikes 
were  driven  that  opened  an  all  rail  route  from  Los  Angeles  to 
the  outside  world,  in  1876,  making  the  road  then  just  four  years 
old. 

The  San  Fernando  Mountains  rose  like  a  vast  barrier  before 
us,  through  which  we  knew  the  long  black  tunnel  lay  with 
its  quicksand  bottom.  This  tunnel  is  a  mile  and  a  quarter  in 
length,  and  two  or  three  men  were  kept  walking  through  it  to 
watch  the  movements  of  the  treacherous  sand,  and  many  a 
stronger  heart  than  mine  has  shuddered  and  gazed  eagerly  at 
the  blue  sky,  as  if  it  might  be  a  last  glimpse  when  he  is  hurled 
into  the  blackness  of  night  and  held  with  a  strange  fear  that  the 
whole  train  may  be  swallowed  in  one  greedy  gulp. 

An  old  gentleman  occupied  a  section  just  back  of  ours.  He 
seemed  quite  ignorant  of  the  existence  of  the  tunnel  and  was 
passing  the  time  in  reading  a  newspaper.  As  we  plunged  into  the 
black  depths  we  heard  his  arms  fall  as  he  crunched  the  paper 
in  his  hands  and  in  a  loud  voice  exclaimed:  "O  my  God,  I  am 
blind. "  His  pitiful  groans  continued  until  rays  of  light  began  to 
penetrate  the  car  again  and  when  we  were  in  the  full  glory  of 
the  day  he  gave  a  strong  deep  sigh  of  joy  and  a  "thanks  be  to 
God"  that  came  from  the  innermost  depths  of  his  soul. 

From  the  moment  we  emerged  from  that  subterranean  pass 
through  the  dividing  mountains  we  were  in  a  new  world.  The 
earth  and  trees  were  in  midsummer  dress  and  birds  were  singing 
in  the  summery  air.     "The  City  of  the  Angels, "  was  at  hand — 


From  the  Frozen  North  to  the  Sunny  South   389 


the  land  where  nature  never  sleeps  the  long  cold  sleep  of  winter, 
never  clothes  herself  in  frigid  robes  of  icy  crystal ;  but  where  only 
summery  months  with  wreaths  of  flowers,  and  bright  mossy  car- 
pets ever  hold  sway.  The  babbling  brook  is  never  chained 
with  arctic  fetters,  and  every  sun  shows  new  fruits  upon  the 
trees. 

Los  Angeles  then  had  but  20,000  people  but  all  the  coaxing 
elements  were  there  to  lure  the  invalid,  the  tourist,  and  the  home- 
seeker.  The  soil  was  rich  and  fertile  and  when  rains  were  plenti- 
ful products  were  phenomenally  large.  We  saw  a  pumpkin  that 
measured  seven  feet  and  four  inches  in  circumference;  an  ear  of 

corn  twelve  inches  long  and  nine  inches 
around,  and  a  six  pound  bunch  of 
grapes. 

There  were  oranges,   lem- 
ons, limes,  pears,  apples,  ba- 
n  a  n  a  s  ,    strawberries,   and 
many  other  fruits  in   great 
abundance.      It  was  a  city  of 
gardens     and 
groves ;    the    pep- 
per tree  with  its 
long     f  em-1  ike 
leaves  and  curving 
branches,  forms  a 
cool   shady    arbor 
within    its    circle. 
The  eucalyptus  tree,  the  Italian  and  Monterey  cypress,  the  large 
palm  trees  and  stately  white  oaks,  and  even  the  stately  broad- 
leaved  cactus,  were  in  every  garden  and  park. 

English  walnut  groves  and  fig  trees,  with  their  round,  blunt, 
and  leafless  branches,  stood  like  ghosts  in  their  encasings.  A 
peculiar  fact  of  the  fig  tree  is  that  the  blossom  is  never  seen,  but 
wherever  a  leaf  grows,  from  the  root  of  the  stem  a  fig  also  bursts 
into  existence. 

The  Cosmopolitan  Hotel  was  then  the  best  in  the  city,  and 
as  hotels  were  in  that  day  it  was  a  fine  one.  Chinatown,  near 
by,  was  a  small  but  interesting  edition  of  San  Francisco's  Chinese 
quarter. 

The  most  cultivated  grounds  and  most  elegant  home  were 


In  the  land  of  the  Navajos 


390        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

those  of  J.  E.  Hollenbeck,  a  Los  Angeles  banker.  His  house  stood 
on  an  eminence  overlooking  the  city,  surrounded  by  sloping 
grounds  that  were  ornamented  by  trees  and  flowers  from  many  a 
foreign  land.  The  orchards  and  vineyards  were  wonderful  to 
see,  the  flowers  and  shrubs  were  still  more  so.  Walks  and  drives 
were  bordered  with  blooming  carnations,  mignonette,  heliotrope, 
dark  velvety  roses,  and  richly  shaded  foliage  plants,  with  settings 
of  calla  lilies,  geraniums,  and  many  plants  of  the  tropics.  Palm, 
rubber,  and  banana  trees  were  cautiously  interspersed,  and  in  the 
midst  of  all  was  a  clear,  sparkling  fountain.  Geraniums  and 
fuchsias  scrambled  toward  the  second  story,  and  ivies  and  honey- 
suckles spread  far  over  the  roof.  Mr.  Hollenbeck's  wife  who 
has  survived  him  has  built  the  home  for  the  aged  in  Los  Angeles, 
and  at  the  cost  of  her  own  fortune  keeps  up  the  expenses  which 
the  home  cannot  meet.  As  it  takes  in  both  husbands  and  wives, 
it  is  a  happy  home  which  is  a  joy  for  any  one  to  visit. 

After  briefly  absorbing  the  glories  of  the  city  of  the  angels, 
we  made  a  hurried  side  trip  to  San  Diego,  and  the  wondrous 
peninsula  of  Coronado,  then  so  little  frequented,  but  whose 
eternal  summer  and  now  far-famed  hostelry  have  evolved  the 
most  unique  resort  on  our  southern  coast. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


TO  OLD  TUCSON 


T  was  with  great  reluctance  that  we  left 
beautiful  Los  Angeles  for  the  cheerless 
wastes  of  Arizona.  We  crossed  the  Los 
Angeles  River  and  for  a  few  miles  rode 
through  a  gently  rolling  country  to  San 
Gabriel,  where  stands  the  old  Mission 
church  of  the  Spaniards.  Its  dilapidated 
condition  told  plainly  its  growing  age  of 
a  hundred  years,  but  the  old  bells  that 
"^^P  chimed  the  call  to  devotions  still  hung 

in  place,  and  the  very  hush  of  material 
things  seemed  to  intensify  the  sacred  relic. 

The  Mission  orange  orchard,  was  the  first  planted  in  the  State. 
Another  orchard  near  the  Mission  covered  five  hundred  acres, 
and  oranges,  lemons,  English  walnuts,  almonds,  and  pomegran- 
ates grew  to  perfection. 

Nearby  the  Sierra  Madre  Villa  nestled  at  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  and  from  its  elevation  one  could  look  down  upon 
thousands  of  acres  of  fruit  trees  in  all  stages  of  bearing,  from 
blossoms  to  the  ripened  fruit. 

Close  along  the  track  was  a  huge  growth  of  cactus,  the  giant 
prickly  pear,  its  great  leaves  growing  ten  inches  wide  and  fifteen 
to  twenty  inches  long.  These  pads  bore  fruit  the  shape  of  an 
egg  and  two  thirds  as  large,  of  a  dark,  dingy  red  color.  From  five 
to  eight  of  these  cactus  apples  grow  around  the  edge  of  each  pad, 
and  they  are  greatly  valued  by  Mexicans  and  Indians  for  food. 
Mr.  S.  H.  H.  Clark,  the  Vice-President  of  the  Union  Pacific  Rail- 
way Co.,  was  at  Sierra  Madre  Villa  enjoying  a  quail  hunt  and 
the  beauties  of  the  climate  and  surroundings.  When  darkness 
began  to  hide  the  country  from  view,  it  brought  no  regrets,  for 
we  knew  too  well  what  a  long  desert  lay  before  us.    In  the  morning 

391 


392         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

we  stopped  at  what  General  Crook's  soldier  boys  called  the  hottest 
place  on  earth,  namely,  Yuma.  The  town  stands  on  the  bank  of 
the  fitful  Colorado  River,  and  as  soon  as  the  train  stopped  swarms 
of  Indians  began  to  gather  around  the  cars  and  passengers.  It 
was  difficult  to  believe  that  some  of  them  were  not  somnambulists, 
judging  from  their  scanty  apparel.  One  dusky  maiden  was 
running  through  the  streets  with  no  waist  on,  and  with  her  bare 


Copyrighted  by  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

The  San  Juan  Capistrano  Mission 


feet  played  football  with  a  lemon,  .giving  a  fiendish  yell  at  every 
successful  toss.  Yuma  was  certainly,  the  worst  looking,  most 
squalid  town  one  could  imagine  and  the  river  was  more  unwhole- 
some than  the  "Big  Muddy."  It  gave  us  the  shudders  to  think 
we  must  drink  its  waters  or  go  dry  for  the  next  five  hundred  miles. 
From  Yuma  eastward  to  Tucson  there  was  not  a  town  of  over 
a  dozen  houses,  and  they  were  occupied  by  section  men  with 
their  families.  To  be  sure  this  road  did  not  have  the  snowbanks 
of  the  North  to  encounter,  but  the  sand  drifts  were  far  more 
troublesome.  It  was  like  butting  against  a  stone  wall  when 
an  engine  struck  one  of  those  sand  piles.  Men  were  kept  on  the 
road  constantly  shovelling,  but  it  was  impossible  for  trains  to 


To  Old  Tucson  393 

make  time  against  such  odds.  The  dust  was  also  insufferable, 
causing  a  continual  sense  of  suffocation. 

Water  for  the  stations  and  men  was  hauled  in  huge  reservoirs 
on  cars  made  for  that  purpose,  covering  a  distance  of  five  hundred 
miles. 

Cacti  of  various  kinds,  sands  and  bold  mountains  bearing 
legends  of  starving  colonies,  were  all  there  seemed  to  be  in  this 
great  desert.  In  the  summer  time  there  is  a  little  change,  for 
then  the  sands  are  alive  with  rattle-snakes  and  centipedes,  taran- 
tulas and  a  few  other  creeping  things  that  afford  pastime  to  one 
interested  in  cultivating  the  study  of  creeping  nature.  The  only- 
birds  that  inhabit  this  section  are  crows  that  come  only  in 
winter  and  the  woodpeckers  that  build  their  nests  in  the  tall 
club  cactus  away  from  intrusion,  and  stay  there  the  year 
around. 

There  was  no  local  travel  along  the  road,  and  could  not  be 
unless  there  was  a  change  in  Nature's  distribution  of  her  elements. 
The  transcontinental  railway  line  across  the  Territory  was 
obliged  to  seek  routes  which  missed  the  most  inviting  sections. 
The  long  stretch  of  desert  between  El  Paso  and  Tucson,  so  trying 
to  the  tourist,  was  bordered  on  both  sides  by  mountain  ranges 
where  rich  mines  and  inviting  camps  abounded,  but  all  of  Arizona's 
noted  mining  towns  were  then  reached  only  by  stage. 

One  of  the  novel  sensations  of  the  trip  across  Arizona  was 
where  the  road-bed  ran  down  hundreds  of  feet  below  the  ocean 
level.  At  La  Veta,  in  Colorado,  we  were  two  miles  above  the  sea, 
and  it  gave  one  a  curious  feeling  to  be  thus  going  to  the  other 
extreme.  Involuntarily  I  glanced  upward  at  the  great  bushy 
clouds  to  see  if  the  ocean  waves  were  coming  over,  and  felt  a 
sense  of  relief  in  seeing  the  hazy  mass  moving  off  in  the  clear 
blue  vault  of  space. 

Altitudes  along  through  the  great  Southwest  vary  from  17,000 
feet  above  the  sea-level  to  1000  below,  and  there  are  some 
striking  contrasts  of  the  largest  and  most  beautiful  trees  in  the 
world  with  the  driest  areas  of  desert  plains  and  the  feeblest  growth 
of  the  struggling  thombush. 

There  are  more  than  a  million  square  miles  in  the  United 
States  that  are  nearly  or  quite  destitute  of  water.  The  rainfall 
at  Yuma  is  the  smallest  of  any  place  in  the  United  States.  Three 
eights  of  our  mountain  ranges  are  well  forested,  one  eighth  is 


394         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

plateau,  and  the  other  half  is  mountain  and  valley  desert,  yet 
they  yield  our  richest  mines. 

There  are  550,000  square  miles  of  desert  in  this  portion  of 
the  United  States  and  500,000  more  square  miles  reaching  on 
into  Mexico,  making  a  total  of  more  than  a  million  square  miles, 
yet  large  as  it  is,  it  measures  but  a  third  the  size  of  the  Great 
Sahara  Desert. 

Barren  and  stony  ranges  are  separated  by  barren  and  thirsty 


The  mud-baked  city  of  Yuma 


plains.  Torrents  of  water  may  start  down  the  mountainside 
and  be  absorbed  by  the  hot  soil  or  evaporated  on  the  hot  rocks 
before  it  reaches  the  desert  plain. 

Absence  of  moisture  makes  absence  of  clinging  vines  and 
twining  roots,  and  whatever  growth  there  is  partakes  of  the 
nature  of  the  country  in  being  tough,  fibrous,  and  thorny.  Yet 
here  again  is  God's  manna  in  the  tunas,  the  fruit  of  the  prickly 
pear  cactus,  and  for  moisture  the  leaves  of  the  dominant  grease- 
wood  and  the  barrel  cactus. 

Out  on  the  desert  our  guide  cut  the  top  from  a  cactus  plant 
about  five  feet  high  and  with  a  blunt  stake  of  palo  verde  pounded 
to  a  pulp  the  upper  six  or  eight  inches  of  white  flesh  in  the  stand- 
ing trunks.     From  this,  handful  by  handful,  he  squeezed  the 


To  Old  Tucson 


395 


water  into  the  bowl  he  had  made  in  the  top  of  the  trunk,  throwing 
the  discarded  pulp  on  the  ground. 

By  this  process  he  secured  two  or  three  quarts  of  clear  water, 
slightly  salty 
and  slightly  bit- 
ter to  the  taste, 
but  of  far  better 
quality  than 
some  of  the 
water  a  desert 
traveller  is  oc- 
casionally com- 
p  e  1 1  e  d  to  use. 
The  P  a  p  a  g  o  , 
dipping  this 
water  up  in  his 
hands,  drank  it 
with  evident 
pleasure  and 
said  that  his 
people  were  ac- 
customed not 
only  to  secure 
their  drinking 
water  in  this 
way  in  times  of 
extreme  drouth, 
but  that  they 
used  it  also  to 
mix  their  meal 
preparatory  t  o 
cooking  it  into 
bread. 

Every  desert  stretch  has  its  own  name  and  its  own  distinctive 
characteristics  differing  in  some  peculiarity  from  any  other. 

Death  Valley  Desert  lies  near  the  east  line  of  California,  north 
of  Yuma.  It  is  only  about  fifty  miles  long  by  thirty-five  in 
width,  and  derived  its  name  from  the  death  of  a  party  of  eighteen 
out  of  thirty  adventurers  who  had  dared  its  dangers  unprepared. 
It    is    surrounded    by    volcanic  ranges,   having  various  and 


^imT. 

Uwm 

ll 

K«ii 

/-^ii 

^;^P^ 

Cupyrighttd  by  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

Yuma  John  and  his  squaw.    His  foot  was  shot  off 
over  a  hundred  years  ago 


396         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

decided  colorings  of  red  and  yellow  and  again  black  minarets 
of  lava.  , 

The  Amargosa  River  dies  away  when  it  enters  the  great  sink 
of  the  valley,  and  from  the  mountain  tops  there  is  the  long  white 
treeless,  trackless  waste.  There  is  no  valley  more  desolate  and 
barren  and  none  more  treacherous  and  deceptive.  The  spectral 
cities,  fields,  rivers,  and  lakes  hang  in  the  sky,  seeming  so  near 


The  proud  mother  at  her  adobe  hut 

yet,  alas,  so  far  away.  A  low  ruin  will  seem  a  hundred  feet 
high  and  birds  on  the  ground  in  the  distance  look  like  men.  A 
constant  delusion  beckons  the  weary  wayfarer  and  it  takes  a 
steady  hand  and  a  clear  head  to  withstand  the  witchery  of  that 
strange  atmosphere. 

Sand  augurs  rise  in  slender  stems  for  a  thousand  feet  into  the 
burning  air  and  terminate  in  bushy  clouds  to  fall  again  in  blinding 
storms  and  hide  all  marks  of  guidance  that  had  been  left  for  those 
who  were  now  lost  in  the  maze. 

But  with  all  the  terrors  of  this  Death  Valley  lying  four  hun- 


To  Old  Tucson 


397 


dred  feet  below  the  sea,  it  contains  immense  deposits  of  that 
witch  of  minerals — borax.  It  was  in  the  year  of  1880,  when  we 
were  making  our  first  explorations  in  that  region,  that  a  company 
was  formed  to  brave  all  obstacles  and  bring  out  that  helpful  house- 
hold mineral.  The  nearest  base  of  supplies  was  two  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  from  Death  Valley,  across  that  dreary  and  dreadful 


"  It  was  the  first  time  our  fellow  passengers  had  been  held 
up  by  a  mule" 


Mojave  Desert  and  over  the  precipitous  and  dangerous  mountain 
range  of  the  Panamint  to  San  Bernardino.  It  required  ten  spans 
of  mules  to  carry  out  two  wagon  loads  of  ten  tons  each,  to  which 
was  added  an  immense  water  wagon,  but  it  was  a  wondrously 
successful  venture  both  for  the  investors  and  for  every  family 
in  America.  Happily,  this  valley  is  losing  its  terrors.  The  scene 
of  so  many  tragedies  and  dastardly  crimes  has  been  invaded  by 
the  Clark  railroad,  and  this  Devil's  Garden  will  soon  be  but  a 
memory — a  tale  to  tell,  that  will  no  longer  have  existing 
counterpart. 


398         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Another  desert  plain  is  a  vast  area  of  alkali,  defying  all  vege- 
tation until  the  poison  ash  can  be  thoroughly  drained  from  the 
soil.  Its  air  is  full  of  the  fine  dust,  stifling  with  its  poison  and 
making  human  flesh  raw  and  sore.  Still  another  maddening 
valley  is  made  up  of  the  brown  adobe  clay,  where  the  feet  cling 
in  the  wet  soil  as  if  held  by  magnetic  powers. 

In  New  Mexico  there  is  a  vast  gypsum  desert  called  Tularosa 
Valley,  and  it  is  most  wonderful  to  look  upon.  One  thinks  only 
of  a  great  white  sea  of  snow,  wind  ribbed  with  billowy  troughs. 
But  instead  of  a  cool  snow  air,  this  great  white  gypsum  sea  creates 
a  heat  and  thirst  greater  than  man  can  describe.  The  wind  ever 
blows  and  the  sands  of  the  air  never  rest ;  they  pelt  and  cover  the 
earth,  and  all  thereon,  with  cutting,  smarting  molecules,  leaving 
no  moment  of  peace  for  him  who  must  endure. 

Again,  another  arid  area  has  great  sand  dunes,  higher  and 
larger  than  any  American  building,  dunes  that  rise  and  fall  in 
a  day  in  the  ceaseless  motion  of  whirling  winds. 

The  flour  dust  of  another  desert  stretch,  and  others  with  black 
lava  ghoulish  minarets  all  tell  the  story  of  the  diversity  of  these 
waterless  domains,  and  the  struggle  for  life  when  one  dares  enter 
such  craters  of  trackless  desolation. 

The  railroad  company  did  a  marvellous  work  to  open  an 
avenue  of  communication  between  the  East  and  West,  where  not 
a  herd  of  cattle  or  sheep,  not  a  modern  home,  not  a  farm  or  a 
mine  was  to  be  seen  its  entire  length  until  settlers  followed  in 
the  wake  of  steam.  Since  that  time  the  Great  American  Desert 
has  yielded  over  one  hundred  million  dollars  in  precious  metals 
and  many  beautiful  homes  have  been  built  in  centres  where  water 
has  been  made  to  flow. 

With  all  the  aridity  and  cheerless  lengths  of  waste  there  is  no 
more  beautiful  sight  than  the  blossoming  of  a  desert  after  a  rain. 
All  the  earth  responds  quickly ;  leaves  burst  out  and  flowers  bloom 
in  great  resplendence,  having  a  fragrance  unknown  in  other  lands. 

The  train  was  suddenly  halted  in  the  midst  of  the  great  desert ; 
windows  went  up  and  heads  went  out  to  learn  the  cause  for  delay 
in  such  a  place.  The  first  thought  with  every  one  was,  "a  hold- 
up,"  women  became  hysterical  and  men  used  language  not  fitting 
to  repeat  here;  but  it  was  only  an  old  prospector  flagging  the 
train  with  desperate  gestures,  as  if  some  great  danger  were  im- 
pending.    It  was  soon  learned  that  the  holdup  man  only  wanted 


To  Old  Tucson 


399 


water  for  himself  and  his  mules.  An  old  Arizona  law  allows 
desert  travellers  in  distress  to  stop  trains  and  demand  water, 
which  the  crew  must  provide.     The  old  prospector  knew  his 


Highwaymen  run  down  a  pedestrian  only  half  a  block  from  us 


rights  and  so  did  the  engineer,  but  it  was  the  first  time  our  fellow 
passengers  had  been  held  up  by  a  mule. 

Tucson  was  the  county  seat  of  Pima  County,  with  a  popula- 
tion of  ten  thousand  people,  mostly  Mexicans  and  half-breeds. 


400         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


It  resembled  Santa  Fe  in  its  low  one-story  adobe  huts  and  stores, 
although  not  so  Americanized  as  the  latter. 

The  Mexican  merchant  could  be  seen  at  all  times  lounging 
lazily  in  front  of  his  dirty  store,  showing  just  life  enough  to  puff 
his  pipe  and  give  a  grunt  when  a  chance  customer  gave  him  a 

nudge.  If  one  of 
his  class  was 
standing  on  the 
street,  nothing 
could  move  him 
until  his  own  will 
compelled  him. 
In  fact,  a  stranger 
would  have  been 
quite  excusable  in 
taking  him  for  a 
unique  hitching 
post. 

Walking  to 
the  outskirts  of 
town,  we  were 
horrified  to  see  a 
band  of  mount- 
ed highwaymen 
run  down  a  pe- 
destrian only  half 
a  block  from  us. 
The  horsemen 
wheeled  and 
turned,  brought 
their  horses  up 
on  their  hind  feet,  and  tried  to  throw  the  man  under  their 
feet.  The  footman  grabbed  the  bits  and,  after  an  exciting 
skirmish,  succeeded  in  warding  off  the  intruders.  We  hast- 
ily turned  toward  town  expecting  to  hear  the  crack  of  revol- 
vers, and  to  be  ourselves  assaulted.  It  made  us  think  we  were  in 
France,  with  the  apaches  of  Paris  on  our  tracks,  and  my  heart 
thumped  like  an  old-fashioned  knocker.  Such  modes  of  highway 
attack  were  quite  common  within  the  very  shadow  of  the  town 
at  that  time,  and  at  any  hour  of  the  day. 


Copyrighled  by  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

A  prince  of  the  Cactus  Land 


To  Old  Tucson  401 

There  was  very  little  of  what  may  be  termed  a  residence 
portion  of  Tucson.  The  adobe  stores  and  dwellings  were  so  inter- 
mingled that  there  was  little  or  no  distinction ;  there  were,  how- 
ever, a  few  American  houses.  One  nearly  completed  was 
thirty-six  by  fifty  feet,  with  a  double  arched  door  in  front,  and  a 
side  door  entering  to  the  stairway  of  the  observatory,  which  was 
three  stories  high.  The  main  part  of  the  building  itself  had  but 
two  stories,  with  the  middle  of  the  roof  flat  and  enclosed  in  an 
artistic  iron  balustrade  for  a  roof  garden  or  a  sleeping  garden. 
The  peculiarity  of  the  house  was  that  it  contained  but  four 
rooms — two  parlors  and  two  sleeping  rooms,  aside  from  bath- 
room and  closets,  while  its  cost  was  nearly  twenty  thousand 
dollars. 

There  seemed  little  that  was  good  in  that  part  of  Arizona, 
and  it  was  dependent  upon  adjoining  countries  for  its  cereals;  its 
mines,  however,  were  a  redeeming  feature,  and  it  was  a  rendez- 
vous for  stockmen.  In  these  towns  the  spirit  and  color  of  the 
old  days  in  the  Southwest  are  preserved  to  a  larger  degree  than 
elsewhere.  The  flannel  shirt  and  broad  sombrero  still  pre- 
dominate in  the  old  towns  throughout  the  Southwest. 

The  principal  mining  camp  of  Tombstone  was  a  hundred  miles 
northeast  of  Tucson.  The  daily  paper  there  was  appropriately 
called  the  Epitaph,  and,  indeed,  where  is  the  tombstone  without 
an  epitaph?  We  found  one  marking  the  remains  of  a  party  to 
a  duel  who  was  a  trifle  too  slow  on  the  draw,  as  follows:  "  He 
done  his  damdest,  angels  could  do  no  more." 

Tombstone  had  about  five  thousand  people  in  the  winter  of 
188 1,  and  more  were  going  there  than  could  find  employment. 
There  were  a  number  of  excellent  mines  around  the  camp,  con- 
taining large  bodies  of  rich  ore.  Real  estate  and  mining  property 
were  steadily  on  the  increase  in  value,  and  the  same  high  excite- 
ment that  pervades  all  good  camps  was  not  lacking. 

Tucson  antedates  Jamestown  and  Plymouth,  and  was  first 
visited  in  1 540  by  Coronado ;  it  saw  its  first  European  settlers  in 
1560,  and  its  first  missionaries  in  1581.  But  long  before  the  year 
1540  there  was  an  Indian  village  established  on  the  site  of  the 
present  city,  so  that  Tucson  can,  if  it  pleases,  claim  an  age  for  its 
town  as  great  as  Santa  Fe. 

San  Xavier  is  to-day  one  of  the  largest,  as  it  is  one  of  the 
best  preserved,  of  all  of  the  churches  built  during  the  years  of 
26 


402         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  Spanish  occupancy  of  the  Southwest.  It  was  built  in  the 
year  1700  by  the  Spaniards,  who  brought  so  much  religion  to  the 
people  whom  they  conquered.  The  style  of  architecture  was 
Moorish,  in  the  form  of  a  cross,  seventy  by  one  hundred  fifteen 

feet,  and  has  a 
well-formed  dome 
and  a  balustrade 
surmounted  all 
the  walls.  The 
front  was  covered 
with  scrollwork, 
intricate,  interest- 
ing, and  partly 
decayed,  and  over 
the  front  entrance 
was  a  life  sized 
bustof  St.Xavier. 
The  interior  was 
literally  covered 
with  frescoes  and 
the  altar  was 
adorned  with 
gilded  scrollwork. 
The  statues  were 
as  numerous  as 
the  paintings. 
The  tiling  on  the 
floor  was  much 
defaced  and  but 
little  good  of  it 
left,  but  the  tiled 
roof  was  nearly  as 
perfect  as  when  laid,  and  it  is  a  great  pity  that  its  manu- 
facture is  one  of  the  lost  arts.  A  chime  of  four  good-sized 
bells  in  the  tower  rang  a  soft,  sweet  melody  as  we  ascended 
to  the  roof  through  a  narrow  stairway  in  the  solid  walls. 
It  is  marvellous  that  so  long  ago,  and  in  such  a  place,  such 
architecture,  ornaments,  painting,  and  sculpture  were  so 
well  executed.  Two  Papago  seigniors  had  the  care  of  the 
church  and   charged  an  admisson    fee   to    see  the  whole  in- 


Copyrighted  by  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

The  entrance  to  San  Xavier  in  Tucson 


To  Old  Tucson 


403 


terior  and  hear  them  tell  of  the  dead  who  lie  sealed  within  its 
walls. 

Riding  from  Tucson  up  the  valley  of  the  Santa  Cruz  River, 


In  the  court  of  a  wood  merchant 

one  had  glimpses  from  time  to  time  through  the  groves  of  olive, 
oak,  and  mesquite  trees,  of  the  white  walls  and  graceful  towers 
of  the  church  as  they  stood  clearly  outlined  against  the  sky  be- 
yond.    It  was  through  this  valley  of  the  Santa  Cruz,  which  is 


k 


404         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

to-day  attracting  so  much  attention  as  an  agricultural  section, 
that  Coronado  marched  on  his  way  from  Old  Mexico. 

Arizona  was  so  unlike  any  of  our  well-watered  countries  of 
the  North  that  we  should  not  have  been  surprised  at  any  kind  of 
a  story  attributed  to  it,  but  there  was  one  good  one  told  of  a  way- 
farer travelling  through  the  Santa  Cruz  valley,  who  was  overcome 
with  heat  and  fatigue  and  had  dropped  down  under  some  chapar- 
ral to  rest  during  the  noonday  heat,  after  he  had  first  buried 


Within  the  walls  of  a  pueblo 

the  treasure  he  was  conveying,  that  he  might  rest  without  fear 
of  robbers.  He  was  awakened  from  a  sound  sleep  by  a  sharp 
and  unmistakable  rattle.  Not  daring  to  move  more  than  to 
open  his  eyes,  he  saw  the  reptile  uncoiling  itself  as  it  crawled 
across  his  feet,  and,  horror  of  horrors,  the  rattler  began  crawHng 
up  inside  his  trouser  leg.  With  stealthy  movement  the  fright- 
ened man  took  a  knife  from  his  belt  and  carefully  drawing  out 
his  trouser  pocket  he  cut  it  off,  and  made  an  avenue  of  escape  for 
his  snakeship,  then  waited  in  breathless  suspense.  Just  at  that 
critical  moment  another  man  came  along  and  saw  the  motionless 
man  fast  asleep,  as  he  believed.     The  newcomer  saw  the  chance 


To  Old  Tucson  405 

of  his  life  to  rob  the  sleeping  victim  lying  so  quietly  in  the  shade. 
He  crept  carefully  up  to  the  gaping  opening  and  stealthily  put 
his  hand  deep  into  the  pocketless  trouser,  where  it  was  quickly 
clinched  by  the  intruding  rattler  coming  up  from  the  other  way ; 
he  jerked  his  hand  out  quickly,  bringing  the  snake  out  at  the 
same  time,  with  its  fangs  still  imbedded  in  the  flesh.  With  a 
string  of  oaths  and  yell  of  horror  he  flung  the  snake  off,  while 
the  happy  sleeper  jumped  to  his  feet  and  thanked  his  rescuer; 
then  he  unearthed  his  valuables  and  hurried  away,  leaving  the 
holdup  man  to  enjoy  or  destroy  his  spoils  and  suck  the  poison 
from  his  hand. 

Altogether  this  was  a  most  picturesque  country.  In  spite 
of  the  vast  arid  waste  there  were  many  things  of  interest  between 
Los  Angeles  and  the  Texas  line,  in  the  heat,  the  lack  of  water, 
the  great  sand  dunes,  and  the  mighty  cactus  where  every 
plant  had  a  thorn  and  every  insect  and  creeping  thing  a  sting. 
The  mountain  views  were  more  like  a  mirage  with  their  needle 
points  silhouetted  in  the  clear  sky.  The  natives  themselves 
were  curious  to  look  upon,  as  they  were  of  Indian,  Spanish,  and 
Mexican  origin,  or  a  mixture  of  the  three,  with  a  sprinkling  of 
Americano.  It  was  a  time  when  the  country  abounded  in  men 
girdled  with  cartridge  belts,  guns,  and  knives.  The  slouch  hat 
and  flowing  mustache  were  the  great  achievements  in  man's 
dress  and  they  summed  his  ambition  second  only  to  his  dextrous 
shooting  and  hunt  for  wealth. 

The  life  studies  were  as  unique  as  the  country  on  which  the 
life  was  sustained.  It  was  the  land  where  the  American  frontiers- 
man had  more  suffering  in  realizing  his  ambitious  dreams  than 
anywhere  else  in  America.  The  shades  of  night  sent  good 
people  under  cover,  and  made  them  glad  when  the  sun  came 
again. 

Many  of  the  stage  lines  penetrated  sections  noted  for  their 
scenic  beauty.  The  old  line  from  Globe  to  Kelvin,  in  southern 
Arizona,  was  through  rugged  mountain  passes  made  famous  as 
the  pathway  of  Geronimo  and  his  band  a  few  years  before.  The 
route  from  Baranca  to  Ojo  Caliente  in  northern  New  Mexico 
passed  through  a  succession  of  wild  mountain  gorges,  at  times 
dipping  close  to  the  raging  mountain  torrent  and  again  climbing 
up  the  steep  ledges  which  line  the  canyon  walls.  The  view  along 
this  route  was  unexcelled  by  any  of  the  famous  gorges  of  the 


4o6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Northwest,  but  timid  travellers  lost  its  grandeur  in  watching  the 
stage-coach  safely  pass  the  dangerous  places,  for  one  is  apt  to  lose 
aesthetic  influences  with  a  yawning  abyss  waiting  for  a  misstep 
of  horses  or  pedestrians. 

Tucson  was  a  sleepy  old  town  in  spite  of  the  entrance  of  the 
railroad,  and  its  hotels  were  not  examples  of  north  home  comforts. 
Business  was  forced  upon  them  and  they  only  took  it  at  the 


Mexican  bake  ovens  used  in  Tucson 


highest  prices.  We  were  given  a  room  just  vacated  by  a  party 
taking  the  same  train  which  brought  us  in,  and  the  bed  had  been 
made  up  without  changing.  It  was  midnight,  and  the  ungracious 
attendant  said  we  could  take  it  as  it  was  or  leave  it,  as  it  was  too 
late  to  have  it  changed.  We  therefore  spread  our  own  blankets 
on  top  of  the  bed  and  made  the  best  of  a  bad  situation. 

The  night  of  our  departure  our  train  was  due  to  leave  at  one 
o'clock,  and  unless  we  vacated  the  room  immediately  after  dinner 
we  would  be  charged  for  another  twenty-four  hours,  including 
board.  We  refused  to  be  so  imposed  upon,  and  sat  in  the  parlor 
to  await  the  hour  of  departure.     We  kept  up  a  big  fire,  with  wood 


To  Old  Tucson 


407 


at  ten  dollars  a  cord,  and  burned  plenty  of  their  good  oil  at  two 
dollars  a  gallon.  We  had  some  companions  who  were  equally 
indignant  at  the  Greaser  treatment,  and  we  shared  our  books 
and  stories  until  the  time  came  for  our  train. 

It  was  a  common  agreement  that  if  Tucson  only  improves 
with  age,  or  becomes  as  good  as  she  is  old,  much  may  be  expected 


Copyrighted  by  Detroit  Photo  Co. 


Zuni  war  dance 


of  the  place.  The  night  was  dark  and  the  roads  were  bad; 
the  weather  was  worse  and  it  was  an  interminable  distance  from 
the  town  to  the  railroad  station.  Our  new-found  friends  suffered 
in  silence.  Not  so  a  drummer,  who  was  also  a  fellow  passenger. 
He  indulged  in  a  steady  monologue  of  complaint  and  grumble, 
and  finally  burst  out  with : 

"What  on  earth  'd  they  put  the  deepo  down  here  for,  a  mile 
from  the  town?" 

The  driver  deliberately  shifted  his  quid,  and  replied,  with 
exasperating  coolness:  "Why,  I  reckon  it  was  to  get  nearer 
the  railroad." 


4o8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  Navajo  Indian  reservation  covers  ten  million  acres  of 
land  in  Arizona  and  Utah.  Then  there  are  the  Moqui,  Papago, 
and  White  Mountain  Indian  reservations  that  occupy  huge 
tracts  of  Arizona  lands.  All  have  the  same  legends  and  indulge 
in  practically  the  same  work  of  making  pottery,  baskets  and 
blankets,  and  caring  for  their  ponies,  cattle,  and  sheep.  They 
have  made  their  homes  in  the  Territory  for  two  hundred  years. 
Wars  have  driven  them  back  and  forth ;  the  Government  divided 
families  by  taking  them  to  different  localities  making  them  justly 
angry  and  revengeful,  but  they  gradually  became  peaceful  as 
their  wealth  increased. 

The  Cliff  Dwellers  were  called  White  Indians,  who  came 
from  the  other  side  of  the  big  water;  they  claimed  to  have  crossed 
the  northern  straits  when  the  narrow  passage  was  frozen  over 
and  had  thus  escaped  a  death  penalty  upon  them  for  their  re- 
ligious belief.  They  always  feared  the  arrival  of  an  enemy, 
hence  they  built  their  homes  as  high  in  the  cliffs  as  possible. 
The  men  were  warriors  bold,  and  acquired  great  wealth,  filling 
their  homes  with  beautiful  and  costly  furnishings.  They  pros- 
pered wondrously  until  they  began  fighting  and  quarrelling 
among  themselves.  Then  the  native  Indians  lost  their  reverence 
for  them,  and  declared  war,  not  desisting  until  all  were  dead 
or  driven  out. 

Mountains  and  valleys,  forests  and  plains  were  famous  for 
narratives  of  weird  events  in  the  lives  of  native  tribes  now  extinct. 
Wherever  the  Indian  has  trodden  the  earth  there  is  romance  and 
adventure  woven  in  the  pages  of  history  by  written  characters 
on  the  stones  and  in  the  canyons  of  the  ages.  Its  many  legends 
date  back  centuries  before  the  coming  of  the  white  man  and 
indicate  the  existence  of  superior  families  in  the  formation  of 
western  America.  The  hidden  caverns  of  wealth  show  that  gold 
and  silver  mines  had  been  operated  for  hundreds  of  years.  The 
buried  canals  demonstrate  tha,t  irrigation  was  a  science  which 
enabled  agriculturists  to  reap  rich  harvests  from  the  fields  by 
cultivation.  The  unearthing  of  pottery  and  edged  tools  tells 
of  an  intelligent  people  who  made  homes  in  the  country  which 
our  pioneers  discovered  to  be  a  dreary  desert  filled  with  coyotes 
and  rattlesnakes. 

It  was  past  Christmas  Day  when  we  went  rolling  back  to 
the  green  fields  of  Los  Angeles,  and  as  we  neared  the  City  of  the 


To  Old  Tucson 


409 


Angels  we  summed  up  our  travels  since  breaking  up  our  Omaha 
home  on  June  first,  six  months  previous,  and  the  results  were 
somewhat  startling.  It  was  more  than  twenty-five  thousand 
miles  by  steamboat,  rail,  and  horseback,  and  three  thousand 
miles  by  stage.  Some  Eastern  papers  commented  on  the  trip  as 
being  the  most  remarkable  one  in  any  woman's  history,  and  the 
end  was  not  yet. 

Our  stay  in  the  Golden  State,  after  our  return  from  Tucson, 


Copyrighted  by  Detroit  Photo  Co. 

Cliflf-dwellers'  palace  in  Arizona 


was  brief.  A  day  was  pleasantly  spent  in  Oakland,  walking 
and  riding  through  the  long  shady  avenues  of  evergreen  oaks, 
pines,  and  cypress  trees,  and  watching  the  ferry  boats  plying 
between  the  two  cities  every  half  hour.  They  were  met  at  the 
wharf  by  steam  cars,  which  then  carried  passengers  free  around 
the  city. 

Although  incorporated  as  a  city,  Oakland  was  quite  rural  in 
appearance.  Its  population  numbered  nearly  fifty  thousand, 
with  more  than  twenty  churches.  Oakland  is  the  Brooklyn 
of  San  Francisco  and  its  surroundings  are  hardly  second  in 
picturesque  beauty  to  its  twin  Eastern  city. 


4IO         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


The  Central  Pacific  road  wound  around  the  city,  then  turned 

to  the  northeast. 
The  ride  was  un- 
eventful until  we 
reached  Vallejo  Junc- 
tion, and  ferried  to 
Benicia.  The  Selano 
was  the  largest  steam 
ferry  boat  in  the 
world  with  two  en- 
gines, capable  of  ex- 
erting three  thousand 
horse-power.  The 
train  moved  slowly 
onto  the  ferry,  with 
its  creaking  timbers, 
and  we  were  soon 
across  the  Strait  of 
Carquinez,  as  that 
arm  of  San  Francisco 
Bay  is  called.  The 
famous  old  Selano  is 
still  on  duty  at  the 
ferry,  just  as  it  was 
thirty  years  ago. 

Benicia  was  noted 
for  its  arsenal  and 
barracks  and  for  hav- 
ing the  only  law 
school  in  the  State. 
The  train  ran  through 
orchards,  vineyards, 
pretty  little  towns, 
rich  farms,  and  end- 
less wheat  fields,  until 
the  great  round  dome 
of  the  State  Capitol 
building  heralded 
our  approach  to  Sacramento.  The  location  of  the  city  was  on 
a  wide-reaching  flat.     The  town  is  built  on  made  ground  the 


A  rocky  pass  in  the  Arizona  Mountains 


To  Old  Tucson  411 

most  of  it  having  been  filled  in  eight  or  ten  feet.  Unlike  the 
bay  city  of  San  Francisco,  its  stores  were  nearly  all  of  brick  or 
stone,  although  the  residences  were  mostly  frame  buildings.  The 
State  Capitol  had  its  approaches  on  terraced  grounds,  with  broad 
pavements  decorated  with  statuary.  The  building  itself  im- 
pressed the  beholder  with  a  sense  of  the  beautiful  and  the  massive 
in  artistic  combination. 

As  we  started  up  the  steps  of  the  Capitol,  a  voice  called  out 
to  Pard  in  such  a  familiar  way  that  he  turned  quickly  and  saw  his 
old  friend  Joseph  Wasson,  a  co-worker  in  the  field  of  correspond- 
ence for  the  Sioux  war.  Mr.  Wasson  had  been  a  correspondent 
for  the  New  York  Tribune,  and  since  then  had  struck  it  rich  in 
the  mines,  and  was  then  serving  his  second  term  in  the  California 
Legislature.  He  joined  our  excursion  through  the  building  and 
then  conducted  us  to  Governor  Perkins's  elegant  apartments, 
where  we  were  cordially  made  welcome.  The  Governor  was  also 
President  of  the  Pacific  Steamship  Company,  and  a  gentleman 
of  rare  talents  and  social  ability.  It  has  been  ever  a  source  of 
regret  that  we  were  not  able  to  accept  an  offer  from  Governor 
Perkins  to  "do"  Japan,  as  we  had  been  doing  the  great  North- 
west. It  was  a  most  flattering  offer  and  we  longed  for  the  study 
of  the  Orient,  but  Pard  could  not  consistently  cancel  his  engage- 
ment with  the  Union  Pacific  Company,  and  we  had  to  let  that 
rare  opportunity  slip  away. 

The  Central  Pacific  Railway  gave  employment  to  a  thousand 
men  locally,  and  that  was  only  one  of  a  half-dozen  roads  that 
centred  in  Sacramento. 

When  we  took  up  our  line  of  march  eastward  again,  we  shud- 
dered as  the  snow-clad  mountains  began  to  loom  up  before  us. 
Perpetual  summer  fast  faded  from  view,  and  when  the  curtains 
were  drawn  for  the  night  they  were  drawn  over  green  fields  and 
flowers  that  only  the  summer  months  would  reveal  again  in  the 
far  East. 

The  sky  was  cloudless  and  as  we  began  climbing  the  Sierras 
the  moon  lifted  its  head,  to  our  great  joy,  and  when  we  rounded 
Cape  Horn  the  scenery  was  more  mysteriously  grand  than  if  day- 
light had  revealed  it.  The  slender  rails  clung  to  the  cliff,  and 
the  engine  puffed  and  groaned  as  she  climbed  along,  while  far, 
far  below,  more  than  two  thousand  feet  down  a  precipitous  moun- 
tainside, in  the  soft  moonlight  flowed  the  American  River,  whose 


412         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

limpid  depths  alone  would  catch  us  were  the  train  to  lose  its  hold 
of  the  rails. 

The  railroad  in  that  section  was  a  great  achievement,  em- 
bracing skill,  genius,  and  courage,  even  to  daring,  for  the  work- 


The  burden  bearer. 


men  had  to  be  let  down  from  the  overhanging  cliffs  with  ropes 
to  blast  the  roadway. 

With  the  morning  sun  we  opened  our  eyes  on  the  great  Hum- 
boldt district,  and  through  the  whole  day  we  traversed  its  desert 
waste  until  nearing  Ogden,  when  real  growing  trees  again  began 
to  dot  the  way. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


THE  STARTING  OF  HAILEY 


ARD'S  publications  were  aug- 
mented by  many  letters  to 
various  newspapers  in  the 
East,  and  I  had  myself  more 
than  forty-five  columns  in 
the  Omaha  Republican  in  one 
summer.  With  the  railroad 
following  so  rapidly  the  pub- 
lication of  the  great  advant- 
ages of  the  vast  Northwest, 
people  of  the  East  began  to 
gather  their  resources  and  start  for  the  new  land  of  promise. 

The  Oregon  Short  Line  was  creeping  along  between  Pocatello 
and  Portland,  and  there  arose  the  necessity  for  commercial 
centres  and  for  divisional  points  for  the  railroad  company,  also 
for  revision  of  counties  and  new  county  seats,  for  methods  of 
getting  water  on  to  arid  lands,  for  some  concerted  plan  of  colon- 
ization, and  numerous  other  enterprises  that  must  be  fostered 
and  promoted  in  the  land  where  homes  had  been  unknown.  The 
greatest  difficulty  in  watering  the  lands  has  been  to  get  it  on  the 
surface.  Most  of  the  Snake  River  lies  down  deep  between  tower- 
ing battlements  of  rock  or  sand,  and  the  water  had  to  be  carried 
from  many,  many  miles  nearer  the  river's  source  to  get  it  out  on 
the  vast  plateau  of  arid  lands  where  it  is  most  needed. 

Idaho  has  waited  many  years  for  the  gigantic  effort  that  the 
Government  is  now  making  to  cause  the  land  to  blossom.  Many 
lesser  streams  have  been  diverted  for  small  areas  but  the  expense 
was  too  great  for  individual  effort  to  cover  vast  domains;  hence 
the  formation  by  Col.  W.  G.  Case  of  Pennsylvania  and  ex-United 
States  Senator  Alexander  Caldwell  of  Kansas,  with  the  assistance 

413 


414         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

of  Pard  and  several  others,  of  a  development  company,  soon  well 
known  as  the  Idaho  and  Oregon  Land  Improvement  Company. 
Among  its  enterprises  was  especially  the  irrigation  of  lands  and 
starting  of  colonies.  Towns  were  started  early  in  the  progress 
of  the  railroad  westward,  and  included  Shoshone,  Hailey,  Moun- 
tain Home,  Caldwell,  Ontario,  Payette,  and  New  Weiser.  Sho- 
shone was  a  division  point  from  which  a  branch  road  was  built 
to  Hailey  and  ultimately  on  to  Ketchum. 

In  March,  1 88 1,  when  the  first  meeting  and  ultimate  decision 
was  reached  to  vote  for  a  change  in  the  location  of  the  Alturas 
county  seat  from  its  mountain  eyrie  at  Rocky  Bar  down  to  a 
point  in  the  Wood  River  valley,  there  was  no  thought  but  that 
Bellevue  would  win  the  prize.  Bellevue  was  first  called  Biddy- 
ville,  but  its  name  was  changed  when  it  began  its  political  aspi- 
rations with  a  fine  and  hopeful  population  of  one  thousand  people. 
It  was  Biddy ville  that  had  first  agitated  the  movement  of 
the  county  seat,  and  there  was  no  possibility  of  a  rival  for  its 
possession. 

There  was  no  thought  of  a  new  town.  There  was  not  a  stake 
or  a  tent  as  yet  on  the  location  at  the  foot  of  Croy  Gulch,  where 
Hailey  is  now  transfixed.  Before  election  came,  four  months 
later,  Hailey  sprang  up  like  a  summer  breeze  and  reached  out 
her  hand  for  the  persimmon  with  a  long  pole.  The  county  seat 
prize  was  contested  for  by  Bellevue,  Ketchum,  Rocky  Bar,  and 
Hailey,  and  it  was  a  fight  to  the  red  hot  finish.  The  political 
pot  boiled  with  every  available  ingredient.  It  drew  everybody 
into  its  heated  cauldron  with  the  grip  of  an  octopus,  and  no  one 
could  remain  neutral. 

It  simply  became  a  question  of  which  town  could  put  up  the 
biggest  fight.  It  was  said  that  Bellevue  took  complete  lists  of 
hotel  registrations  in  Salt  Lake  and  embodied  them  in  its  list  of 
local  voters  on  election  day,  but  for  all  that  Hailey  had  fourteen 
votes  in  excess  of  all  voters  in  the  county.  Perhaps  Hailey 
used  a  San  Francisco  register.     No  one  who  knew  would  tell. 

The  returns  from  Indian  Creek  were  stolen  in  transit,  which 
gave  the  prize  first  to  Bellevue,  but  Hailey  objected  and  took  the 
matter  into  court  and  won  out.  We  attended  several  sessions  of 
the  contest  and  fairly  gasped  at  some  of  the  statements  made  on 
both  sides.  One  lady  of  our  party  sketched  the  positions  of  the 
two  leading  attorneys,  which  were  not  in  keeping  with  the  appear- 


The  Starting  of  Hailey  415 

ance  of  these  men  in  social  affairs.  One  of  them  had  his 
legs  so  wound  around  the  back  legs  of  his  chair  that  it  was  a  query 
how  he  could  ever  disentangle  them  without  breaking  his  neck. 
The  legal  battle  ended  in  favor  of  Hailey,  and  court  convened 
there  Monday,  October  10, 188 1,  with  Judge  Prickett  in  the  chair, 
twenty-two  lawyers  present,  and  forty  cases  on  the  calendar. 
When  another  appeal  was  threatened  to  change  the  county 
seat,  the  judge  said  that  any  further  attempt  to  remove  the 
county  seat  from  Hailey  would  be  at  the  expense  of  the  County 


The  first  cabin  in  the  woods  by  the  river 

Commissioners,  and  the  matter  was  therefore  settled.  Alturas 
County  was  then  larger  than  the  State  of  Ohio,  and  since  that 
exciting  episode  it  has  been  divided  into  three  counties. 

Before  our  company  was  ready  to  locate  the  town  of  Hailey, 
a  few  Boise  City  men  meddled  in  the  pie  and  their  interests  had 
to  be  bought  out  before  Hailey  could  be  legally  adopted  into  our 
townsite  fold.  This  brought  about  many  complications  that 
were  long  and  bitterly  fought  in  the  courts.  The  success  of  the 
county-seat  fight  had  so  imbued  some  of  the  attorneys  with  the 
success  of  underhand  work  that  they  carried  it  into  civil  practice. 
It  was  like  choosing  death  between  fire  and  water,  for  if  those 
tricky  attorneys  did  any  work  for  you,  they  kept  all  they  made 


4i6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

by  having  a  bill  large  enough  to  absorb  all  the  moneys  involved, 
and  if  you  hired  an  honest  lawyer  he  never  did  any  work,  or 
pushed  matters  to  a  crisis,  so  results  were  very  much  the  same. 

One  who  has  never  had  the  experience  of  locating  or  acquir- 
ing a  townsite  and  then  creating  conditions  to  convince  the  dear 
people  of  the  advantages  in  migrating  to  such  a  spot  has  lost 
a  lot  of  excitement,  joy,  and  trouble,  that  rolls  from  the  end  of  a 
pen  with  far  greater  smoothness  than  the  living  incidents  rolled 
from  the  backs  of  the  village-makers. 

Hailey  was  named  for  the  Hon.  John  Hailey,  who  first  filed 
a  desert  land  claim  on  the  section  used  for  the  townsite,  and  he 
was  the  most  conspicuous  figure  in  Idaho  history.  His  word  was 
as  good  as  his  bond,  and  he  was  never  known  to  do  a  dishonorable 
act.  He  owned  and  operated  many  of  the  earliest  stage  lines 
in  Idaho,  and  had  occupied  positions  of  trust  from  the  humblest 
to  that  of  member  of  Congress.  His  life  was  full  of  strenuous 
action,  and  his  namesake  town  seemed  to  inherit  the  same  spirited 
life,  although  its  people  were  not  all  on  the  square  like  old  Uncle 
John. 

At  the  time  of  the  county  seat  trouble  W.  T.  Riley  was 
manager  for  the  Boise  company  that  owned  the  location.  He 
was  very  anxious  to  impress  Pard  with  the  value  of  the  townsite 
and  told  him  to  pick  out  any  lot  he  wanted  and  it  should  be  his. 
Pard  selected  a  fine  corner  on  the  main  street  where  the  road 
came  in  through  Croy  Gulch  from  the  Hot  Springs.  Mr.  Riley 
told  Pard  to  write  his  initials  on  the  lot  on  his  map  and  he  would 
give  the  deed  as  soon  as  a  title  was  established.  The  town  grew 
rapidly  and  friend  Riley  saw  the  wisdom  of  Pard's  selection, 
insomuch  that  he  immediately  put  a  fine  store  building  on  it 
for  himself,  and  when  questioned  about  it  later  he  said  that 
R.E.S.  meant  "reserved"  and  nothing  more. 

A  year  or  two  later  they  were  in  some  little  affairs  together 
when  friend  Riley  failed  to  come  to  time  on  some  money  that 
was  aggravatingly  overdue;  some  rather  strong  words  were  used, 
and  Riley,  getting  more  rily,  said,  "Well,  damn  it,  Strahorn,  why 
don't  you  sue  it?  "  And  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  when  that 
same  afternoon  papers  were  served  on  him,  and  to  avoid  a  suit 
he  paid  up.  It  was  really  a  laughable  incident  for  a  man  to  sue 
his  partner,  but  it  cleared  the  atmosphere  between  them  and 
made  them  friends  ever  after. 


The  Starting  of  Hailey  417 

In  May,  1881,  H.  Z.Burkhart  opened  a  stationery  store  in  the 
new  town  of  Hailey.  It  was  opened  in  a  tent  made  of  two  bolts 
of  muslin,  one  bolt  from  Bellevue  and  one  from  Ketchum,  and 
the  tent  made  on  a  sewing  machine  in  Ketchum.  After  opening 
up  his  first  box  of  goods  he  sold  the  box  to  Frank  Harding,  editor 
of  the  Hailey  Miner,  to  make  a  bedstead.  Mr.  Burkhart  was 
the  first  express  and  stage  agent  and  the  first  justice  of  the 
peace,  and  also  the  first  postmaster.  He  was  twice  burned  out 
of  business  after  several  seasons  of  prosperity  and  later  absented 
himself  for  two  years,  when  he  returned  again  to  Hailey  and 
became  the  most  extensive  lumber  merchant  on  Wood  River. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  E.  Fox  were  the  second  arrivals  for  business. 
Mr.  Fox  was  always  noted  for  his  sagacious  business  methods, 
and  when  he  opened  his  little  grocery  store,  his  wife  opened  a 
boarding  tent,  with  a  dirt  floor.  The  sagacious  Fox  made  Mis- 
tress Fox  pay  full  price  for  her  groceries  at  his  store  and  board 
him  free  of  charge!  They  both  prospered,  until  he  owned  a 
fine  brick  building  with  the  finest  stock  of  goods  in  Idaho,  and 
his  wife  retired  from  business  to  a  beautiful  home. 

Mrs.  Burkhart,  Mrs.  Fox,  Mrs.  Frank  Harding,  Mrs.  Geo. 
Parsons,  and  Mrs.  W.  T.  Riley  were  the  pioneer  women  who  lived 
in  homes  without  roofs,  or,  at  best,  log  crosspieces  and  canvas 
over  them  for  the  best  part  of  a  year  with  only  tallow  dips  for 
illumination.  It  is  a  pleasure  to  add  that  days  of  affluence  fol- 
lowed for  all  of  them,  and  they  prize  this  experience  on  Wood 
River  for  the  days  of  happiness  if  they  were  mingled  with 
hardships. 

We  spent  some  weeks  on  Wood  River  gathering  statistics 
which  Pard  wove  into  entertaining  narrative,  clothing  it  in 
attractive  garb  that  it  might  coquette  with  restless  spirits  in  the 
far  East  who  were  waiting  for  an  enchantress  to  lure  them  to  the 
great  mysterious  West. 

The  manuscript  from  my  own  pen  fiowed  more  in  humorous 
vein,  showing  a  search  for  romantic  history,  social  status,  pastimes, 
and  conditions  of  the  people  already  in  the  new  land,  weaving 
together  the  ludicrous  and  amusing  episodes,  and  describing  the 
grandeur  of  the  scenery;  mine  to  be  soon  forgotten  by  those  who 
read  to  be  amused,  and  Pard's  to  live  always  in  the  great  sea  of 
commercial  figures. 

He  has  ever  been  a  heroic,  philosophic,  never-tiring  sphinx 
27 


4i8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

in  rising  from  disasters  and  disappointments,  but  it  has  required 
a  deal  of  help  from  Mrs.  Spookendike  to  make  him  see  the  humor- 
ous side  of  life. 

The  first  year  in  Hailey  when  the  ladies  gathered  for  an 
afternoon  tea  each  one  would  carry  her  own  plate,  knife,  fork, 
and  spoon,  and  often  her  chair.  Such  conditions  were  hidden 
from  visitors  at  first,  but  when  they  learned  how  much  of  camp 
life  the  newcomer  had  experienced,  she  was  let  into  such  secrets 
and  shared  the  same. 

The  Grand  Central  Hotel  was  built  in  1882.  It  was  a  joy 
to  have  at  least  a  high-sounding  name,  if  there  was  nothing  grand 
about  the  building.  It  was  kept  by  a  German  woman,  Mrs. 
Miller  by  name,  and  her  daughter,  Katie  Cornwald.  The  walls 
and  ceilings  were  only  single  boards  covered  tightly  with  cloth 
or  paper,  making  a  veritable  sounding-board  for  every  side  of  the 
room.  I  can  never  forget  the  first  sensation  of  seeing  the  ceiling 
swaying  up  and  down  Hke  the  waves  of  the  sea,  and  there  seemed 
to  be  no  mistake  about  either  an  earthquake  swaying  the  house 
or  that  I  was  losing  my  mind.  I  was  lying  in  bed  rather  late  in 
the  morning,  and  Pard  had  already  gone  out  to  his  duties,  when 
I  lifted  my  eyes  to  the  undulating  ceiling  and  momentarily  ex- 
pected to  be  crushed  by  a  crumbling  house  and  I  was  as  seasick 
as  if  I  had  been  on  the  briny  deep. 

Hotel  chairs  were  scarce  and  there  was  but  one  chair  in  a  bed- 
room, so  a  guest  going  to  the  parlor  in  the  evening,  or  to  sit  down 
in  the  more  sociable  company  on  the  sidewalk,  would  carry  his 
own  chair  along  with  him.  The  chair  brigade  began  to  move 
soon  after  dinner,  and  it  was  a  novel  sight  to  see  so  many  silently 
stealing  in  with  four  legs  up  and  two  legs  down  when  the  time 
came  to  retire.  As  Mrs.  Miller  was  truly  German  she  had  her 
four  o'clock  coffee  every  afternoon,  made  by  herself,  and  which 
she  kindly  shared  with  me.  It  was  so  good  that  it  brought  for- 
giveness to  her  for  many  other  delinquencies  on  the  regular  table. 

One  bright  day  there  was  a  picnic  party  at  the  Emily  mine, 
a  mile  down  on  Wood  River.  The  camp  was  on  one  side  of 
the  river  and  the  opening  to  the  tunnel  was  in  the  face  of  a  per- 
pendicular bluff  on  the  opposite  side.  There  was  an  improvised 
tramway,  made  of  a  drygoods  box  and  some  ropes,  to  carry  any 
one  across  the  river  who  preferred  that  way  rather  than  to  use 
the  leaky  boat  in  the  swift  stream.     There  really  was  not  much 


The  Starting  of  Hailey 


419 


choice,  as  an  icy  ducking  was  imminent  either  way,  except  that 
the  tram  saved  a  dangerous  climb  by  going  straight  to  the  tunnel 
entrance. 

While  crossing  in  the  box  the  party  was  much  amused  to 
see  the  dog  of  the  camp  carrying  a  cat  in  his  mouth  back  and 
forth  across  the  stream.  He  had  a  firm  hold  on  the  struggling 
cat,  and  when  he  neared  shore  he  would  wheel  around  and  go 


I 


A  box  party  on  Wood  River,  watching  the  star  actors 

back  again.  It  was  a  daily  custom  of  his  to  give  the  cat  this 
bath  whenever  he  felt  like  it,  and  he  always  grabbed  her  when 
she  least  expected  it  and  started  for  the  river.  He  made  the  trip 
with  the  cat  every  time  the  tram  crossed  the  river,  as  if  it  were 
a  necessary  part  of  the  gearage,  and  he  never  let  go  of  her  until 
he  knew  the  tram  was  not  to  cross  again.  He  also  had  a  frog 
to  tease  when  the  cat  was  out  of  sight.  When  the  frog  came  up 
in  the  water  he  would  grab  it  and  toss  it  about  and  let  it  fall  in 
the  water  again,  only  to  dive  to  the  bottom  and  get  Mr.  Frog 
whenever  it  tried  to  get  away.  The  dog  was  truly  a  royal 
entertainer. 


420         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  mountain  in  which  the  Emily  mine  was  located  reared 
its  head  high  above  all  the  surrounding  hills,  and  was  named  Delia 
Mountain  when  the  town  was  first  started.  I  felt  that  I  would 
have  to  grow  some  to  meet  the  dignity  of  such  a  namesake.  On 
its  surface  were  found  many  specimens,  rich  and  poor,  but  the 
mountain  made  a  precipitous  frontage  on  the  river  that  was  im- 
possible to  climb  without  the  aid  of  ropes.  A  tunnel  was  started 
in  the  face  of  the  perpendicular  wall,  in  the  hope  of  striking  the 
vein  at  a  given  angle.  For  hundreds  of  feet  the  tunnel  followed 
the  delusive  dip  of  the  vein  in  the  hope  of  wealth  and  fortune, 
but  the  poor  fellows  working  the  mine  never  knew  how  to  spell, 
and  every  month  they  wrote  "Pay  o'er"  until  all  hope  fled  for 
pay  ore. 

The  picnickers  formed  the  first  excursion  party  to  the  sylvan 
retreat  under  the  swaying  willows  and  tall  cottonwoods.  It  was 
the  first  time  that  ladies  had  been  on  the  grounds  to  enliven  and 
cheer  the  bachelor  life  and  spread  out  the  goodies  "like  Mother 
used  to  make,"  and  many  an  eye  was  dimmed  with  tears  of  grati- 
tude for  the  happy  hours. 

It  was  not  a  good  day  for  fishing.  Any  amount  of  coaxing 
would  not  lure  the  finny  tribe  to  take  either  fly  or  bait.  A  few 
days  later,  however,  they  got  hungry,  and  the  boys  at  the  mine 
sent  us  such  creels  of  speckled  beauties  that  they  were  passed 
around  the  hotel  office  for  inspection  before  they  were  sent  out 
to  be  prepared  for  the  evening  meal. 

There  was  a  man  named  Fisher  at  the  hotel,  from  San  Fran- 
cisco, a  mining  man  with  more  money  than  manners,  who  insisted 
on  having  the  fish  for  some  lady  friends  whom  he  had  invited 
there  for  dinner.  He  did  not  care  whose  they  were  or  what 
they  cost,  they  were  to  be  served  for  his  dinner.  He  made 
some  very  loud  boasting  talk  in  the  office  that  he  was  too  great  a 
man  to  be  thwarted  in  any  such  thing  as  the  possession  of  a  string 
of  fish,  and  I  am  sure  he  would  not  want  to  see  in  print  what  else 
he  said. 

When  we  went  into  the  dining-room  he  was  already  there, 
demanding  the  fish  for  his  party.  Poor  Katie  came  with  tears 
streaming  down  her  cheeks  and  trembling  with  excitement  to  ask 
me  what  she  should  do.  I  told  her  there  was  but  one  thing  she 
could  do,  to  bring  the  fish  to  our  table,  and  from  there  they  were 
distributed  among  our  various  friends  in  the  dining-room,  sending 


The  Starting  of  Hailey 


421 


Katie  to  nearly  every  table  except  the  one  occupied  by  the  Fisher 
party.  He  was  livid  with  rage,  and  left  the  dining-room  to  give 
vent  to  his  anger.  Pard  sent  word  to  him  that  if  he  had  been 
gentlemanly  enough  to  ask  for  the  fish  he  might  have  had  them 
and  welcome,  but  that  his  bombastic  demand  for  them  had  placed 


**  The  boys  at  the  Emily  mine  sent  us  creels  of 
speckled  beauties" 


L 


him  in  the  humiliating  position  enjoyed  by  those  who  witnessed 
it,  and  which  was  what  he  had  deserved. 

Hailey  was  at  first  the  most  orderly  mining  town  imaginable, 
and  its  citizens  were  largely  a  class  superior  to  those  of  frontier 
settlements.  After  the  first  year  or  two  of  joining  hands  with 
everybody  in  a  social  way  there  was  a  secret  meeting  of  some 
of  the  elite  to  separate  the  gambling  and  saloon  element  from 
social  functions.  Every  circular  sent  out,  and  invitations  also, 
were  signed  "By  Order  of  the  Committee,"  so  no  one  knew  who 


422         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

was  at  the  bottom  of  the  movement,  but  from  that  time  on  parties 
were  as  select  as  anywhere  in  the  United  States,  and  no  gentleman 
appeared  at  a  dinner  or  other  social  affair  except  in  the  conven- 
tional dress  suit. 

From  the  time  social  lines  were  thus  drawn  the  town  developed 
rapidly,  but  had  many  reverses.  Twice  Hailey  was  swept  out 
by  fire,  and  yet  it  rose  again  like  a  mermaid  from  the  sea,  and 
each  time  with  renewed  charms  and  finer  dress. 

The  Hailey  Times j  which  was  started  by  T.  E.  Picotte  in  May 
of  1 88 1,  was  first  issued  in  a  tent,  then  in  a  log  cabin  with  a  dirt 
floor,  and  two  additions  of  logs  were  added  to  that  before  the 
present  frame  building  was  erected.  The  Times  was  the  first 
daily  paper  to  be  published  in  Idaho;  its  dispatches  were  wired 
to  Blackfoot,  then  sent  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  miles  by  stage 
to  the  Hailey  office.  The  flooring  for  the  office  was  hauled  a 
hundred  and  fifty  miles  and  cost  $125  per  thousand  feet.  The 
degrees  of  the  newspaper  prosperity  are  all  in  evidence  to  this 
day  except  the  tent. 

After  the  railroad  was  finished  to  Shoshone  and  the  Hailey 
branch  started  north,  confidence  in  its  completion  became  so 
assured  that  three  stage  loads  of  people  came  into  the  Wood  River 
town  daily,  and  the  first  train  into  Hailey  was  on  May  23,  1883. 
Hon.  A.  Caldwell,  Mr.  Fred  Willard  of  the  St.  Louis  Times, 
Miss  Louise  Skinner  of  Denver,  Pard  and  I  were  of  the  party  on 
the  first  train.  It  was  met  with  a  brass  band  and  all  the  en- 
thusiasm of  a  Fourth  of  July.  The  telegraph  was  finished  at  the 
same  time,  and  Hailey  had  won  a  place  on  the  map.  The  county 
court  house  was  built  in  1883,  and  Hailey 's  most  disastrous  fire 
was  in  the  same  year. 

Telephones  were  put  into  use  in  Hailey  September  17,  1883, 
and  the  following  year  when  they  were  installed  in  Caldwell  we 
paid  fifteen  dollars  per  month  for  one  phone  in  our  Caldwell 
home. 

The  Merchants  Hotel,  with  its  thirty-four  rooms,  was  built 
complete  and  occupied  in  thirty-seven  days  from  the  day  the  lots 
were  bought;  then  that  was  burned,  and  the  second  Merchants 
Hotel  was  built  and  burned  before  the  fine  brick  hotel  was  built 
by  a  company  composed  of  A.  Caldwell,  Robt.  E.  Strahorn, 
H.  Z.  Burkhart,  and  other  Haileyites,  and  was  later  bought  by 
Andrew  Mellon,  the  famous  banker  of  Pittsburg. 


The  Starting  of  Hailey 


423 


Without  intention  of  introducing  politics,  I  can  hardly  forego 
some  political  reminiscences  of  these  pioneer  localities.  When 
the  Hon.  T.  F.  Singiser  made  Hailey  a  visit  there  were  many 
things  brought  to  mind  of  how  even  for  the  very  high  office  of 
Congressman  there  are  ways  of  reaching  the  goal  that  are  not 
down  on  the  schedule.  The  Singiser  election  was  a  good  illustra- 
tion of  the  rough-and-ready,  free-and-easy  politics  of  those  pioneer 
days.     Over  at  Ross  Fork  Agency,  near  Blackf  oot,  it  was  thought 


It  took  a  herd  of  oxen  to  haul  the  gigantic  boiler  to  the  mines 


necessary  to  vote  the  Indians  for  Singiser,  and  this  could  only 
be  done  by  enabling  them  to  show  tax  receipts.  The  campaign 
fund  provided  one  thousand  tax  receipts  for  twenty-five 
cents  each,  and  these  did  double  duty,  for  quite  a  lot  of  the 
Indians  voted  their  tax  reciepts  instead  of  ballots,  but  they 
were  counted  just  the  same.  However,  the  Democrats  scented 
the  scheme  in  time,  and  under  like  conditions  went  the  Republi- 
cans nearly  one  hundred  better  by  voting  eleven  hundred  Indians 
at  a  neighboring  agency.  T.  T.  Danielson,  an  old  Blackfoot 
pioneer,  now  of  Spokane,  who  was  one  of  the  election  judges, 
kept  the  ballot  box,  which  was  a  cigar  box,  for  many  years  con- 
taning  these  peculiar  souvenirs  of  the  campaign.     The  fact  that 


424        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Mr.  Danielson's  striving  to  retain  his  position  as  postmaster 
did  not  disqualify  him  as  judge  of  the  election  is  another  illus- 
tration of  the  liberal  way  they  did  those  things  on  the  frontier 
in  the  early  eighties.  This  reminds  me  that  the  Postmaster- 
General,  with  whom  charges  had  been  filed  against  Danielson 
for  selling  whiskey  in  the  postoffice  at  Blackfoot,  came  along  one 
of  those  hot  summers  with  a  party  of  other  officials,  who  with  their 
wives  were  on  a  combined  inspection  and  pleasure  tour.  The 
sun  was  fairly  withering  the  sage-brush  and  broiling  the  alkali  out 
of  the  earth,  and  the  dust  was  choking  the  little  party  of  o'er 
thirsty  notables  as  they  trudged  up  the  street  to  the  postoffice. 
There,  in  the  middle  of  a  well  sprinkled  floor,  their  eyes  rested  upon 
an  enormous  tub,  with  a  great  cake  of  ice  in  the  centre,  around 
which  were  ranged  flasks  of  whiskey,  bottles  of  beer,  pitchers  of 
punch  and  lemonade,  and  still  around  these  were  other  chunks  of 
ice  that  looked  cool  enough  to  reduce  the  temperature  of  old  Sol 
himself.  After  all  parties  had  enjoyed  favorite  beverages  and 
brands  and  had  noted  the  immaculate  neatness  and  good  order 
of  the  place,  the  aforesaid  Postmaster-General  turned  to  his 
secretary  and  dictated  a  telegram  which  settled  for  some  four 
years  at  least  the  incumbency  of  the  Blackfoot  postoffice,  and 
it  was  not  in  favor  of  the  man  who  was  after  Danielson's  scalp, 
either. 

Some  time  later,  however,  when  it  was  settled  that  Danielson 
better  go  out  of  the  whiskey  business,  in  order  to  peacefully  keep 
the  postoffice,  the  cowboys  from  far  and  near  rode  in  and  shot 
up  the  town.  Danielson's  whiskey  bottles  were  ranged  on  the  top 
shelves  running  around  the  store,  and  the  boys  rode  through  the 
store  on  their  ponies  and  shot  the  top  off  every  bottle.  Whereat 
Danielson  goodnaturedly  set  up  the  cigars  and  next  day  the  boys 
returned  and  bought  the  entire  stock  of  goods  which  remained. 
It  must  be  said  in  favor  of  the  cowboys  that  whenever  they  did 
a  lot  of  mischief  like  that  in  the  store  they  always  came  back 
and  made  up  the  loss  to  him  in  some  way  if  he  let  them 
alone. 

The  Hon.  Singiser  made  history  fast  for  Idaho,  and  it  is  well 
that  he  is  out  of  the  dragnet  of  the  present  day.  One  day  in 
Hailey  he  received  a  letter  from  the  Postmaster-General  with  an 
enclosure  from  the  postmaster  of  Vienna,  Idaho,  up  in  the  Saw- 
tooth country,  and  it  ran  as  follows: 


The  Starting  of  Hailey  425 

"To  the  Postmaster-General, 
"Washington,  D.  C. 
"Dear  Sir: 

"I  am  in  receipt  of  your  favor  in  reply  to  my  communication  of ,  in 

which  you  refuse  to  pay  me  the  nine  dollars  and  forty-five  cents  which  you 
owe  me.  I  notice  that  you  are  mighty  particular  if  every  cent  due  you  is 
not  turned  in  on  time,  but  I  see  you  are  not  so  blankety  blank  particular 
about  paying  your  own  debts.      Now  you  can  pay  me  that  I9.45  which 

you  owe  me  or  take  your postofiice  and  go  to with  it. 

"(Signed)        A.  W.  Moore, 

"Vienna,  Idaho." 

The  Hon.  Singiser  not  only  saved  the  office  and  the  nine 
dollars  and  forty-five  cents  to  the  writer  of  the  letter,  but  he  also 
made  a  staunch  advocate  for  himself. 

Colonel  Creighton  had  been  brought  out  to  Hailey  from  the 
East  to  act  as  attorney  for  the  Land  Company.  The  Colonel  was 
a  bright,  companionable  man,  and  aside  from  being  an  over-am- 
bitious man  he  stood  his  transfer  from  Eastern  soil  remarkably 
well.  One  day  he  came  in  much  under  the  influence  of  liquor, 
and  I  was  astounded  at  such  an  unusual  occurrence.  The  day- 
was  cold,  and  as  he  snuggled  up  to  the  hot  stove  he  said  he  had 
just  come  in  from  the  funeral  of  a  miner  who  had  died  at  the  hos- 
pital, and  whose  body  was  brought  down  to  the  town  cemetery. 
He  sat  for  some  minutes  by  the  fire  in  absolute  silence,  then  con- 
tinued: "Oh,  yes,  I  want  to  tell  you  about  the  funeral. "  I  knew 
it  must  be  something  unusual  and  that  it  must  be  the  cause  of 
his  condition,  so  I  urged  him  on  to  his  story. 

The  colonel  was  a  good  Catholic  like  most  of  the  others  at 
the  funeral,  but  a  man  of  more  than  ordinary  strength  of  mind 
and  character.  He  said  everything  went  all  right  coming  through 
the  gulch  until  they  reached  the  top  of  the  hill,  when  the  horses 
on  the  hearse  became  frightened  and  ran  away ;  at  a  sharp  curve 
the  hearse  ran  off  the  edge  and  rolled  down  into  the  ravine,  taking 
the  horses  and  driver,  and  losing  the  body  not  only  out  of  the 
hearse,  but  the  fall  broke  the  coffin  open,  and  the  body  rolled 
down  by  itself.  It  was  a  terrible  incident,  and  from  fright  and 
superstition  no  one  would  touch  the  body  to  restore  it  to  the  case, 
until  finally  he  himself  had  to  go  down  and  put  it  back  in  the  coffin, 
and  even  then  he  had  difficulty  in  getting  help  enough  to  carry 
the  coffin  back  up  the  hill.  New  horses  were  put  on  the  hearse 
and  the  cortege  moved  on  into  town,  but  instead  of  going  to  the 


426        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

cemetery  most  of  the  followers  had  piloted  themselves  straight 
for  "good  spirits"  to  drive  away  bad  ones,  and  that  was  why 
he  was  so  overcharged.  The  funny  part  of  the  matter  was  that 
as  soon  as  he  was  through  relating  the  story  he  would  fall  into  a 
pensive  mood  for  a  few  moments,  then  begin  at  the  very  begin- 
ning, as  if  it  were  the  first  time,  and  tell  it  all  over  again.  He  told 
the  story  three  times  over  and  started  it  again,  when  Pard  said 
they  had  better  go  out  and  see  if  any  one  else  was  hurt,  and  he 
took  the  colonel  by  the  arm  and  led  him  out  into  the  open  air. 

Joe  Morrell,  who  owned  the  hearse,  had  other  troubles  with 
this  battered  funeral  wagon.  Shortly  after  these  mishaps,  he 
discovered  half  a  dozen  of  Hailey's  lively  young  men  clandestinely 
making  off  with  the  gruesome  carriage  to  attend  a  ball  in  a  neigh- 
boring town.  It  was  the  Christmas  ball  at  Bellevue,  and  all  other 
vehicles  had  long  since  been  engaged.  There  was  such  animated 
rivalry  for  favor  with  some  of  the  belles  of  the  lower  town  that 
an  effort  had  been  made  to  keep  these  particular  gentlemen 
away  from  that  ball,  and  it  required  more  than  ordinary  per- 
suasion to  induce  even  easy  Joe  to  let  the  boys  go  on  to  the 
festivities  in  such  a  scandalous  way. 

The  fight  over  the  county  seat  was  but  an  incident  in 
history,  and  so  was  lot  jumping.  There  are  always  plenty  of 
degenerates  who  follow  in  the  trail  of  explorers  and  restless 
homeseekers  and  watch  for  opportunities  to  take  advantage  of 
every  unprotected  interest.  While  titles  were  still  unsettled 
in  Hailey,  there  were  attempts  at  lot  jumping  that  had  all  the 
elements  of  a  tragedy,  and  only  a  kind  Providence  prevented 
such  an  ending. 

There  was  a  conspiracy  among  the  said  enterprising  trouble 
makers  to  jump  a  number  of  the  Hailey  town  lots  and  hold  them 
by  force  of  bullying  and  show  of  arms.  The  plot  became  rumored 
about  the  town  and  word  was  brought  to  Pard,  who  at  that  time 
was  the  general  manager  of  the  Town  Company.  If  the  move 
should  be  successful,  it  would  mean  that  no  one's  title  would  be 
safe  from  such  an  attack. 

The  lot  jumpers  put  up  a  colored  barber  by  the  name  of 
Walker  to  make  the  first  attempt.  Some  lots  near  the  centre  of 
the  town  that  Walker  had  long  had  his  eye  on  were  selected 
and  which  he  now  openly  declared  that  Satan  himself  could  not 
keep  him  from  possessing. 


Rivals  having  appropriated  the  carriage,  these  young  men  decamped  in 
Joe  Monell's  battered  hearse  for  the  Christmas  ball  at  Bellevue. 

Drawn  by  C.  M.  Russell 


The  Starting  of  Hailey  427 

When  full  of  liquor  he  was  a  dangerous  man  and  few  there 
were  who  felt  like  interfering  with  his  desire.  Defying  all  law 
and  all  places  above  or  below,  he  ordered  the  fence  posts  and 
lumber  carried  onto  the  ground  to  fence  in  the  lots  of  which  he 
was  to  take  forcible  possession.  The  hour  was  a  critical  one 
and  brooked  no  delay.  If  they  were  successful,  half  the  town  of 
Hailey  would  be  jumped  within  twenty-four  hours,  and  years 


Packtrain  headed  for  a  new  camp 

of  litigation  would  follow.  Worse  than  that,  there  would  be 
riot  and  bloodshed  that  would  be  difficult  to  check. 

Pard  came  from  the  street  and  hustled  about  our  tiny  apart- 
ment in  rather  a  restless  way.  I  was  busy  writing  at  an  impro- 
vised table,  piled  with  various  papers  and  manuscripts.  My 
back  was  toward  him,  so  I  did  not  see  what  he  was  doing  until 
suddenly  he  put  his  arm  around  my  neck  and  gave  me  an  earnest 
kiss,  saying,  "Now,  don't  work  too  hard,  but  just  keep  busy 
enough  not  to  be  lonesome,  for  I  am  going  to  be  busy  outside 
the  rest  of  the  day. "  The  circumstance  was  not  so  unusual  that 
any  surprise  or  suspicion  of  trouble  was  aroused,  and  my  letter 
for  the  Eastern  press  went  on  growing  without  any  knowledge  of 
what  was  going  on  downtown. 

With  the  first  rumor  of  trouble  a  courier  had  been  dispatched 


428         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


to  the  county  seat  at  Rocky  Bar,  a  distance  of  seventy-five 
miles,  for  an  officer  and  the  proper  papers  to  restrain  the  invaders, 
but  that  meant  a  terrific  ride  over  mountain  trails  and  long  hours 
of  waiting. 

The  barber  set  his  henchmen  at  work  digging  postholes,  then 
followed  the  post  setters,  and  the  men  to  nail  on  the  rails  of 
the  fence.  Whiskey  in  plentiful  supply  was  handed  out  to  his 
workmen,  and  he  stayed  on  the  ground  and  gave  orders  in  loud, 
boisterous  tones,  as  if  the  world  was  his  to  command. 


It  was  when 
in  their  nefarious 
had  come  in  to  get 
knowing  what  use 
it,  or  if  he  himself 
back.  He  knew 
would  be  in  with 
suspense,  and  he 
thoughts  into 
for  the  best  he 
out  warning  me. 
brave  and  true  men 
with  him  to  the 
where  he  ordered 
the  grounds,  only 
cursed  and  bullied 
with  their  work. 

Without  saying 
them,  P  a  r  d  or- 
to  pull  up  every 
as  it  was  set,  cut  it 
and  throw  it  into  the  street. 


they  were  well  on 
work  that  Pard 
his  revolver,  not 
he  might  have  for 
would  ever  come 
what  distress  I 
the  anxiety  and 
could  not  put  his 
words,  so  hoping 
went  away  with- 
Two  or  three 
with  axes  went 
scene  of  action, 
the  intruders  from 
to  be  jeered  at  and 
while  they  went  on 

anything  more  to 
dered  his  own  men 
fence  post  as  fast 
into  kindling  wood. 
This  was  met  with  a  shower  of 
curses  and  threats  and  another  round  of  drinks  by  the  mob. 
But  the  battle  went  on  while  waiting  for  the  law  to  come  to  the 
rescue. 

The  excitement  grew  to  a  tragedic  point  and  the  better  ele- 
ment of  the  town  was  nearing  its  limit  of  patience  and  endurance. 
The  fear  of  bloodshed  became  momentarily  more  imminent, 
timid  ones  scurried  for  their  homes  and  safety,  while  the  element 
that  had  made  America  stood  by  and  watched  for  the  moment 
when  they  must  act  in  the  cause  of  right  and  justice. 


A  typical  trouble  maker 


The  Starting  of  Hailey  429 

The  hours  of  the  day  and  long  into  the  night  dragged  on,  and 
some  of  Walker's  men  were  carried  from  the  place  too  drunk  to 
longer  be  of  use;  others  were  just  fighting  drunk,  and  still  others 
just  drunk  enough  to  want  to  win  at  any  cost.  They  had  their 
rifles  on  the  ground  beside  them,  their  revolvers  hung  in  their  belts, 
with  the  ugly  cartridges  shining  in  the  rims  of  the  magazines, 
proving  that  they  needed  but  the  crucial  moment  to  precipitate 
bloody  warfare. 

Pard  went  about  giving  his  orders  to  his  men  with  an  air  of 
authority  and  coolness  that  astonished  his  adversary  and  touched 
the  chord  of  chivalry  in  the  barber's  makeup,  for  he  knew  he  would 
be  lynched  if  he  shot  an  unarmed  man,  not  knowing  that  Pard's 
right  hand  grasped  a  gun  in  his  coat  pocket.  Walker  busied  him- 
self in  hurling  vile  epithets  at  him,  and  in  trying  in  every  pos- 
sible way  to  intimidate  him.  Several  times  he  threatened  and 
cursed,  as  he  held  his  revolver  pressed  into  Pard's  side,  and  every- 
body who  saw  marvelled  at  the  cool,  determined  manner  in  which 
Pard  continued  to  command  his  faithful  men  against  such  odds. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  the  father  of  my  good  Pard  came  in 
and  told  me  all  sorts  of  fairy  stories  to  amuse  me  and  prevent 
me  from  going  out  on  the  street  or  learning  of  the  alarming  con- 
dition of  affairs.  Not  knowing  his  instructions  to  keep  me 
indoors,  I  proposed  a  stroll  to  get  out  of  the  stuffy  rooms  for 
some  fresh  air,  but  he  was  very  tired  and  wanted  to  rest 
awhile.  He  looked  fatigued  and  worried,  so  I  said  that  I  would 
read  him  a  funny  story  that  I  had  found  in  a  late  paper  and 
he  should  just  rest  as  long  as  he  liked.  How  little  I  knew  the 
anxiety  that  was  in  his  heart  as  I  prattled  on  with  small 
talk  until  he  should  be  in  the  mood  to  tell  me  what  worried 
him.  He  often  came  to  me  to  straighten  out  little  worries  for 
him,  so  I  bided  my  time,  but  the  hours  went  on;  we  had  dinner 
together,  and  still  Pard  did  not  come,  only  an  occasional  mes- 
sage telling  me  whom  he  was  with,  and  that  it  would  be  late 
before  he  could  come.  Of  course  he  gave  me  the  names  of 
some  of  our  best  friends  who  were  helping  him,  but  not  a  word 
of  the  trouble  they  were  trying  to  avert. 

Late  in  the  evening  the  Presbyterian  minister  called  and 
stayed  for  two  or  three  hours.  I  could  but  wonder  why  he  so 
prolonged  his  call.  At  last,  a  little  before  twelve,  as  he  was  going 
down  the  stairway,  there  was  great  shouting  in  the  street,  and 


430         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

mad  yells  of  rage  and  triumph  filled  the  air.  I  then  heard  Pard's 
voice  and  rushed  out  to  meet  him,  but  I  was  stunned  by  the  tired, 
haggard  look  he  wore.  Yet  he  smiled  with  it  all,  in  his  same 
old  cheering  way.  For  the  first  time  I  then  learned  of  the  danger 
he  had  been  in  and  the  awful  excitement  and  suspense  in  which 
everybody  had  shared  but  myself.     The  officers  of  the  law  had 


"  He  held  his  revolver  pressed  into  Pard's  side  " 

arrived  and  papers  were  quickly  served  on  the  disturbing  par- 
ties, creating  a  panic  of  rage  on  one  side  and  of  joy  for  the 
law-abiding  citizens  who  were  helping  to  defend  the  titles  to 
their  homes.  For  twenty-four  hours  the  battle  had  been  kept 
up,  and  for  fifteen  hours  Pard  had  stood  in  the  midst  of  the 
conflict,  and  only  the  joy  of  the  timely  arrival  of  the  law 
prevented  his  total  collapse. 

The  day  that  settled  in  unforgettable  gloom  in  the  Hailey 
experience  was  the  one  that  shed  its  sunlight  on  the  first  legal 
and  public  hanging  in  the  town.     It  was  no  doubt  a  just  punish- 


The  Starting  of  Hailey  431 

ment  for  a  wilful  murder,  but  the  court  house  was  just  across 
the  street  from  our  home,  and  it  was  impossible  to  shut  out  all 
the  sights  and  sounds  of  the  frightfully  repellent  event  that  made 
one's  flesh  creep. 

People  multiplied  so  fast  on  the  streets  that  they  seemed  to 
come  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  and  drop  down  from  the  sky, 
and  indeed  so  they  did  come ;  for  mines  closed  down  for  the  day  to 
allow  the  masses  of  humanity  to  satisfy  their  morbid  curiosity  to 
see  a  man  hanged  by  a  rope  until  he  was  dead.  Down  from  the 
hills  came  the  trooping  miners,  and  up  from  the  valleys  came 
the  ranchers  and  the  cowboys.  Yet  the  crowd  of  such  great 
magnitude  kept  a  silence  that  was  appalling. 

The  wheels  of  vehicles  crunched  noisily  on  the  gravelly  roads 
and  the  clicking  of  horses'  feet  echoed  strangely  with  the  rolling 
wheels  and  stealthy  tramp  of  men.  We  were  spending  the 
summer  in  Hailey,  and  our  house  stood  out  even  with  the  street. 
On  its  shady  side,  toward  the  court  house,  men  were  banked  in 
expectancy,  waiting  for  the  procession  to  file  out.  I  closed  the 
doors  and  windows,  drew  down  the  heavy  shades  and  tried  to  close 
my  mind  to  the  terrible  ordeal,  but  I  felt  more  fear  and  awe 
than  when  the  great  eclipse  of  the  sun  had  cast  its  ghoulish  gloom 
of  night  about  us  in  Estes  Park.  Perhaps  I  was  cowardly;  I 
never  analyzed  my  feelings  very  closely,  for  I  was  too  anxious  to 
turn  myself  into  a  happier  lane. 

At  last  a  murmur  arose  on  the  air  that  grew  like  a  great  storm, 
and  when  the  man  was  brought  from  the  jail,  the  pall  of  silence 
and  oppression  was  succeeded  by  a  series  of  groans  and  moans 
that  swelled  into  frantic  and  unnatural  shouts  of  the  multitude 
until  the  procession  moved  on  down  the  valley  to  the  gallows  of 
death,  followed  by  thousands  of  curious  and  ghoulish  people. 

The  echoing  footsteps  died  away  at  last ;  the  house  was  thrown 
open  to  the  sunshine  and  a  rush  made  into  the  open  air  for  rehef 
from  the  depression.  For  a  time  the  same  silence  prevailed,  but 
when  the  ordeal  was  over  and  the  crowds  came  back  into  town,  the 
overstrained  nerves  of  most  of  the  witnesses  headed  for  substan- 
tial spirits  at  the  groggeries,  and  they  held  a  night  carnival  almost 
as  repulsive  as  the  day  had  been,  but  wondrously  free  of  crime. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

SHOSHONE,  A  DISAPPOINTED  RAILROAD  CENTRE.     SHOSHONE 

FALLS 


IHE  Boise  men  who 
got  possession  of  the 
Shoshone  townsite, 
made  an  agreement 
in  which  for  a  sub- 
stantial consideration 
they  were  to  divide 
their  interests  with 
Pard's  Land  Company  but  they  sud- 
denly decided  to  dispossess  the  Land 
Company  from  its  rightful  share  of  the 
property.  The  railroad  shops  and  a 
large  roundhouse  were  being  built  and 
hundreds  of  men  were  already  at  work. 
The  town  was  thriving  as  a  junction 
point,  but  this  complication  of  titles 
and  ownership  would  seriously  retard  the  railroad  work.  Pard 
threatened  to  do  his  utmost  to  stop  every  wheel  if  the  Boise 
men  did  not  honestly  fulfil  their  agreement,  and  when  they 
still  refused  the  crucial  moment  came  with  the  order  to  discharge 
all  the  men  at  work  there.  It  was  an  unexpected  blow,  and  the 
Boisemen  were  then  willing  to  keep  their  agreements,  but  there 
arose  dissensions  and  changes  at  the  Union  Pacific  head- 
quarters, and  Shoshone  forever  lost  the  prestige  that  would 
have  been  hers  had  it  not  been  for  that  effort  of  unlawful 
usurpation. 

The  Oregon  Short  Line  reached  Shoshone  on  February  7, 
1883,  and  that  day  also  the  telegraph  line  was  put  into  operation, 
but  the  first  passenger  train  did  not  reach  Shoshone  until  March 
7,  just  a  month  later.     From  that  time  on  for  nearly  a  year 

432 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    433 

mixed  trains  were  run  on  the  road  and  travel  was  smoother, 
but  only  a  little  less  tedious  than  by  stage. 

I  do  not  know  whether  there  ever  was  a  worse  terminal  town 
than  Shoshone.  It  seemed  to  call  the  roughest  and  toughest 
elements  that  it  had  been  my  lot  to  see,  and  I  was  ever  in  terror 
when  any  time  had  to  be  spent  there.  Ten  and  fifteen  arrests 
per  day  were  common,  and  there  was  no  other  jail  but  a  hole  in 
the  ground,  with  guards  placed  around  the  hole.  There  was  a 
fight  on  the  streets  almost  every  hour  of  the  day  and  night. 
Lot  jumpers  were  numerous,  bad  whiskey  was  unlimited,  dance 
halls  were  on  every  comer,  guns  were  fired  at  all  hours,  and  the 
loud  time  from  the  gambling  dens  was  ever  vibrating  through  the 
air. 

It  was  my  misfortune  to  arrive  alone  in  Shoshone  one  day 
soon  after  the  line  was  opened.  The  telegram  telling  Pard  of 
my  coming  had  miscarried  and  he  was  at  Hailey.  It  was  a  matter 
of  most  serious  moment  what  I  should  do  for  a  night's  shelter, 
and  there  could  not  have  been  a  gloomier  prospect.  I  am  will- 
ing to  pass  it  by.  Shots  were  singing  through  the  air,  drunken 
brawlers  were  yelling  and  swearing,  and  even  our  engine  seemed 
to  join  in  the  debauch  with  its  hissing  steam,  as  it  throbbed  its 
life  out  on  the  track  by  the  station. 

There  was  no  respectable  hotel  in  the  place,  and  what  rude 
shacks  there  were  about  the  town  were  given  up  to  saloons 
and  dance  halls.  Hardened,  weather-beaten,  dissipated  counte- 
nances glowered  from  under  every  hat  brim  in  sight.  I  sat  down 
on  a  rude  bench  in  the  depot  to  think  over  my  situation  and  get 
up  courage  to  ask  if  I  might  spend  the  night  in  the  passenger 
car  there  by  the  station,  and  thus  wait  for  the  next  morning's 
stage  for  Hailey. 

Then  the  ticket  man  slammed  his  window,  and  a  feeling  of 
desolation  and  abhorrence  was  creeping  over  me,  when  a  man 
came  in  and  pounded  on  the  ticket  window,  which  was  quickly 
thrown  open  again,  and  I  heard  him  ask  if  Mrs.  Strahorn  had 
arrived  on  that  train.  Well,  he  just  looked  like  an  angel  from 
heaven  to  me  when  he  made  known  his  errand  and  said  Pard  had 
told  him  to  look  out  for  me  on  every  train,  and  he  added  that 
Shoshone  was  a  tough  place  for  a  lady,  but  he  would  do  the 
best  he  could  for  me.  He  put  me  at  ease  by  showing  me  Pard's 
letter,  and  I  obediently  followed  him. 
28 


434         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

That  branch  of  the  railroad  was  built  by  the  Kilpatrick  Bros., 
and  my  saviour  was  their  bookkeeper  and  store  keeper,  Mr. 
William  Hazlett.  He  said  there  was  really  no  place  fit  for  me  to 
go  to  and  that  I  should  have  his  room,  which  was  in  an  individual 
building,  close  by  the  store.  I  was  amazed  at  its  tidiness.  There 
were  two  bunks  in  the  room,  with  snowy  linen,  and  even  ruffles 
on  the  pillow  cases.  A  good  fire,  plenty  of  wood  piled  close 
beside  the  stove,  a  good  oil  lamp,  a  table  with  writing  materials 
and  some  late  periodicals,  made  me  foresee  a  night  of  ease  and 


"  There  was  no  other  jail  but  a  hole  in  the  ground  with 
guards  over  it " 

comfort  for  myself,  while  my  benefactor  was  confined  to  such 
comfort  or  discomfort  as  he  could  conjure  in  some  corner  of  the 
store. 

It  was  like  an  awakening  from  a  bad  dream  to  find  one's  self 
in  such  a  dainty  boudoir.  Unhappiness  and  fear  took  wings 
as  I  considered  Pard's  thoughtfulness  in  thus  forestalling  my 
arrival. 

Mr.  Hazlett  called  for  me  to  go  to  supper,  and  I  was  nearly 
starved  after  the  day  of  fasting,  but  the  look  of  gloom  that  settled 
on  his  face  when  I  accepted  the  invitation  with  such  alacrity 
caused  me  to  make  some  inquiries,  which  were  not  resultant  of 
much  anticipation  for  the  evening  meal. 

Arriving  at  the  Hotel  de  Spencer  we  found  about  forty  good, 
bad,  and  indifferent  men  seated  on  benches  on  either  side  of 
several  long  tables,  eating  their  supper  with  coats  off  and  hats 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    435 

on,  uncombed,  unshaven,  some  drunk,  some  sober,  some  of  the 
toughest  specimens  of  the  town,  yet  a  sprinkling  of  knighthood 
was  there  that  saved  me  from  abject  fear. 

When  I  appeared,  one  after  another,  in  recognition  and 
respect  for  petticoat  intrusion,  jerked  off  his  hat  and  thrust  it 
under  the  table,  or  under  himself,  until  every  head  was  uncovered 
and  bowed  low  over  his  plate  in  abject  devotion  to  the  duty 
before  him.  Then  laying  his  knife,  that  had  done  him  such  good 
service  on  the  much  abused  red  table-cloth  that  had  been  in  use 
the  whole  season  without  the  aid  of  a  laundry,  he  departed  in 
silence. 

The  tables  were  mussy,  the  dishes  were  thick  and  clumsy 
and  sticky,  the  paper-covered  condiment  bottles  were  specked 
and  soiled  and  further  disgraced  by  greasy  hands,  and,  hungry  as 
I  thought  I  was,  I  had  a  sudden  aversion  to  food. 

My  attendant  was  of  such  courtly  manner  that  I  no  longer 
marvelled  at  the  exquisite  neatness  of  his  room,  and  I  was  grate- 
ful for  a  guidance  of  Fate  into  such  manly  care.  He  was  not 
surprised  that  I  did  not  eat,  and  when  he  went  back  to  the  store 
he  sent  me  a  box  of  sardines,  some  crackers  and  cheese  and  fruit, 
which  he  hoped  I  might  enjoy. 

When  I  again  took  possession  of  the  bachelor  apartment,  I 
felt  a  strange  thrill  pass  over  me  as  I  stepped  inside,  for  the  room 
seemed  full  of  voices  and  of  language  such  as  I  had  never  heard 
before.  The  bright  Rochester  lamp  had  been  lighted  in  my 
absence,  and  it  sent  penetrating  rays  into  every  corner  of  the 
room  and  I  could  see  no  living  being.  I  even  mustered  up  cour- 
age to  look  under  the  bunks,  and  while  there  was  most  everything 
else  under  there,  there  surely  was  no  talking  machine,  human  or 
mechanical.  I  then  made  sure  of  the  matches,  tested  them,  and 
turned  down  the  light  to  see  if  those  voices  would  continue  in  the 
dark.  I  expected  an  apparition  of  some  kind,  and  I  had  it,  for 
all  about  me  the  single  board  walls  of  the  cabin  were  shrunk 
apart,  in  some  cases  a  full  inch,  and  the  broad  glare  of  lights 
from  the  streets  and  dance  halls  flooded  the  room  through  the 
open  spaces.  The  spirits  were  not  in  the  air,  but  in  the  stomachs 
of  the  populace.  I  did  not  relight  the  lamp,  for  the  anticipated 
happy  evening  had  taken  wings,  and  I  crept  away  to  bed  after 
again  trying  the  bolt  on  the  door.  I  wondered  which  bunk 
would  be  the  most  quiet  and  the  safest,  for  frequently  there  was 


436         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  crack  of  a  pistol  in  the  air  and  the  shots  grew  more  fre- 
quent as  the  night  advanced.  Once  in  the  night  the  pillows 
made  a  good  bed  on  the  floor  between  the  bunks,  where  it  was  a 
little  more  quiet,  with  some  added  security.  One  does  not 
like  to  acknowledge  being  a  coward,  but  some  of  our  bravest 
soldiers  have  said  that  their  knees  shook  when  they  went  into 
battle,  and  they  wanted  to  run  away,  but  in  this  case  there  was 
no  place  to  run  to. 

The  clanging  of  the  musical  instruments  rang  out  incessantly 
— the  stamping  of  many  feet,  the  loud  laughter  and  boisterous 
voices  in  drunken  brawls  were  a  combination  of  exciting  noises, 
whose  intensity  is  found  greatest  at  a  new  railway  terminal  on 
the  frontier. 

With  the  first  light  of  day  the  atmosphere  became  subdued, 
and  a  troubled  sleep  was  just  lulling  me  to  unconsciousness  when 
there  was  a  dull  thud  against  the  side  of  the  building.  It  was 
two  drunks  helping  each  other  along,  and  they  had  not  seen  the 
miniature  palace  which  I  inhabited  until  they  fell  against  it. 
I  held  my  breath  in  anticipation  of  their  next  move,  when  I 
heard  them  say.  "Good  night,  Jim."  "Good  night,  where  are 
you  goin'?"  "Goin'  home,  Mike — good  night,  good  night,  see 
you  in  the  mornin'. "  Then  one  went  on  his  way,  while  the  other 
one  dropped  down  in  his  tracks,  and  soon  the  whole  locality 
was  ringing  with  his  resonant  snore  as  the  sun  climbed  up  the 
ladder  of  the  new  day. 

I  dressed  myself  early  and  ate  my  breakfast  from  the  supplies 
which  had  reached  me  after  my  light  was  out  the  night  before, 
and  I  waited  anxiously  for  the  time  to  get  aboard  the  Hailey 
stage.  I  examined  my  little  house  more  minutely  by  the  light 
of  the  new  day.  It  was  built  of  just  rough  boards,  with  a  canvas 
roof,  and  was  mounted  on  wheels,  so  whenever  the  camp  was 
moved  the  little  house  was  rolled  onto  a  flat  car  or  trundled 
along  over  the  wagon  road  to  the  next  place  of  vantage. 

A  man  named  Burch  was  the  ticket  agent  for  the  Wood  River 
stage  line,  and  he  was  a  loyal  subject  of  Bellevue,  endeavoring 
in  every  way  to  induce  people  to  stop  there  instead  of  the  up- 
river  towns  of  Hailey  or  Ketchum.  Every  ticket  he  read  aloud 
as  he  inspected  the  pasteboard,  and  thereon  was  Hailey,  Hailey, 
Hailey,  Hailey,  without  once  finding  a  passenger  for  his  favorite 
town.     Finally  after  repeating  the  name  again  and  again  he 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    437 


quite  lost  his  dignity  as  a  railroad  magnate,  and  said,  "Hailey, 
Hailey,  Hailey — Hell — what  are  you  going  there  for?*'  and  there- 
after there  was  no  respect  of  persons  as  he  let  loose  a  tirade  of 
abuse  on  Hailey  and  its  promoters.  The  stage  was  crowded  to 
its  utmost  capac- 
ity with  all  kinds 
of  humanity,  and 
I  was  glad  to  get 
the  seat  with  the 
driver,  where  I 
could  breathe  the 
pure  morning  air. 
The  criminal 
element  follow- 
ing a  railroad 
across  a  frontier 
is  not  the  hilar- 
ious element  of 
mining  towns. 
It  is  a  more  hard- 
ened and  lawless 
lot,  who  care  not 
for  life  or  limb  or 
results  of  any  epi- 
sode in  which  they  indulge  themselves, 
ing-man's  money,  and  they  get  it. 

Most  mining  men,  however  rough  and  uncouth,  are  gentle- 
men at  heart,  and  they  recognize  a  lady  by  affording  her  every 
protection  from  insult  or  intrusion.  I  cannot  write  in  too  high 
praise  of  the  courtesy  that  has  been  tendered  to  us  in  every 
mining  camp  we  have  known  in  the  great  Northwest.  Those 
who  take  chances  in  new  countries  must  undergo  hardships  and 
unpleasant  experiences  that  would  be  much  harder  to  bear  were 
it  not  for  the  ludicrous  side  of  the  pioneer  experiences. 

When  the  railroad  work  continued  on  west  from  Shoshone  it 
did  not  renew  the  town.  A  pall  had  been  thrown  upon  it  that 
no  effort  could  throw  off,  and  trains  both  east  and  west  passed 
at  unseemly  hours  of  the  night.  They  arrived  anywhere  from 
midnight  to  four  a.m.,  and  one  going  or  coming  to  Wood  River 
towns  on  the  day  train  always  had  the  bad  night  to  experience 


A  diversion  on  a  lonely  frail  of  the  desert 

They  want  the  work- 


438         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

at  Shoshone.  The  places  to  sleep  and  eat  were  simply  atrocious, 
and  if  one  did  go  to  sleep  his  landlord  or  porter  might  fail  to  call 
him,  and  he  would  either  be  left  over  for  twenty-four  hours  or 
fly  to  the  train  with  most  of  his  clothes  in  his  arms. 

The  dining-room  was  conducted  in  a  sort  of  "  go  as  you  please  " 
way ;  the  waiters  were  usually  girls.  One  of  them  would  stand 
at  the  end  of  a  table  and  call  off  the  bill  of  meats:  "Roast  beef, 
roast  lamb,  kidney  stew,  and  baked  heart" ;  then  she  would  point 
her  finger  at  each  one  and  say  "you"  and  "you"  and  if  you  had 
not  been  paying  attention  and  she  had  to  repeat  the  bill  of  fare 
she  would  glower  like  a  thunderstorm,  and  if  that  was  her  only 
menace  you  fared  well.  When  the  meats  were  served  and  you 
were  trying  both  sides  of  a  knife  to  find  a  vulnerable  spot  in  the 
portion  allotted  you,  she  would  return  to  inquire  for  "drinks." 
One  girl  who  lent  her  talents  to  the  old  Spencer  House  used  to 
sing  her  order : 


ev± 


i4  Uii'  I  '  ^^ 


Sweet-milk,      butter-milk,  tea    or    coffee 

and  the  notes  rang  out  through  the  room  as  if  something  good 
might  be  coming,  but  the  sweet  milk  was  from  a  can,  the  butter- 
milk was  "out"  because  they  never  had  it,  and  the  coffee  would 
remind  one  of  a  story  that  United  States  Senator  Vest  of  Missouri 
used  to  tell. 

It  was  during  one  of  Senator  Vest's  campaign  tours  in  the 
early  '90's.  It  was  necessary  for  him  to  sojourn  over  night  in  the 
town  of  St.  Charles.  The  best  hostelry  the  place  afforded  was 
poor  enough,  and  at  breakfast  Senator  Vest  was  especially  put 
out  by  the  stuff  that  was  placed  before  him  for  coffee. 

After  having  sampled  the  beverage,  Vest  with  a  frown  called 
for  the  proprietor  and  asked,  with  a  wave  of  his  hand  toward  the 
offending  liquid,  smoking  innocently  before  him : 

"Sir,  what  is  this  stuff?" 

"Coffee,"  meekly  replied  the  proprietor,  somewhat  taken 
aback. 

"Coffee!"  repeated  Vest,  in  fine  scorn.  "My  friend,  I 
could  insert  a  coffee  bean  in  my  mouth,  dive  into  the  Missouri 
River,  swim  to  the  town  of  Alton,  111.,  and  I  '11  guarantee  that 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    439 

one  could  bail  up  much  better  coffee  than  this,  sir,  over  the 
entire  route!" 

Homer  Stull  was  at  one  time  a  prominent  attorney  of  Omaha, 
and  owing  to  his  high  capabilities  he  was  sent  to  Idaho  as  attor- 
ney for  the  Union  Pacific  Company,  and  also  for  the  Land  Com- 
pany. He  was  a  man  small  in  stature,  but  colossal  in  mind, 
and  as  genial  a  companion  as  one  could  wish  to  find.  His  gray 
hair  and  boyish  face  made  him  a  handsome  man,  but  his  hypno- 
tic power  lay  in  his  smile.  When  he  drew  his  right  hand  well 
up  to  his  chin  and  thrust  his  index  finger  a  few  inches  in  your 
direction,  then  gave  it  a  quick  backward  motion,  it  was  a  sure 
indication  of  a  good  story  coming.  One  day  the  finger  gave  a 
dive  at  Pard,  and  the  Squire's  smile  was  like  a  sunbeam  quiver- 
ing on  every  nerve.  His  eyes  twinkled  with  the  merriment  of 
something  most  humorous  that  must  find  vent.  He  said:  "I 
just  want  to  tell  you,  Strahom,  that  you  better  keep  away  from 
Hailey.  There  is  a  man  waiting  for  you  over  there,  and  I  '11 
tell  you  what  he  said.  Before  he  came  to  this  country  he  lived 
in  lUenoy,  and  he  knew  your  name,  'cause  you  married  one  of 
the  best  girls  there  was  around  that  part  of  the  State  and  he 
thought  you  must  be  pretty  smart  to  get  her,  so  he  sent  to  Omaha 
for  one  of  the  books  you  wrote,  and  he  was  just  gol  darned  sur- 
prised when  they  did  n't  ask  him  nuthin'  for  the  book.  He  read 
it  several  times  over,  and  every  time  he  read  it  the  hankerin'  to 
move  just  got  stronger,  until  he  had  to  pull  up  and  take  his 
family  to  the  promised  land.  'Well,'  said  I,  'didn't  you  find 
it  all  right — you  can't  blame  the  book  for  the  trouble  you  're  in 
now.*  And  the  man  repHed,  '0,  I  found  the  book  was  all  right 
enough;  the  country  is  all  here,  but  I  thought  all  I  had  to  do 
was  to  come  out  here  and  just  take  what  land  I  wanted  for  my 
ranch  and  it  would  be  mine,  and  I  just  settled  down  on  a  mighty 

fine  piece  of  land,  but  now  every  d feller  that  comes  along 

wants  my  property  and  says  I  hain't  no  right  on  it,  and  it  don't 
seem  to  be  mine  at  all  by  what  they  say.  They  send  officers  to 
me  with  some  kind  of  papers  a  telling  me  to  move  on  and  get  off 
the  property.  The  book  don't  say  nothin'  about  that;  he  don't 
say  some  other  feller  owns  the  land,  and  I  '11  bet  the  old  Doc 
is  mighty  sorry  such  a  feller  got  his  girl,  and  I  'm  going  to 
write  and  tell  him  that  I  '11  just  camp  right  here  until  I  find  the 
feller  what  writ  the  book  and  I  '11  whale  him  for  the  both  of  us.' " 


44^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Shoshone  did,  however,  have  the  enterprise  to  make  a  road 
to  the  great  Shoshone  Falls,  and  if  the  falls  were  properly  adver- 
tised it  would  be  one  of  the  scenic  attractions,  as  it  is  one  of 
the  scenic  wonders  of  the  world.  We  made  three  trips  'over  the 
twenty-five  miles  of  rocky  highway,  and  each  time  found  the 
falls  and  the  great  basaltic  environment  more  enchanting. 

In  the  middle  of  July,  1881,  a  merry  party  arrived  in  Sho- 
shone to  visit  this  Niagara  of  the  Northwest.    The  party  was 


"Sage-brush  is  the  freighters'  salvation  from  Jack  Frost" 

composed  of  the  Hon.  Alexander  Caldwell  and  wife  of  Leaven- 
worth, Kansas,  Mr.  A.  W.  Mellon  of  Pittsburg,  banker.  Dr. 
Harriet  E.  Green  of  Chicago,  Pard,  and  myself.  It  was  not  the 
happiest  greeting  imaginable  when  the  genial  host  of  the  new 
Dewey  House  in  Shoshone  said:  "I  am  very  sorry  you  did  not 
telegraph  for  rooms;  the  house  is  full  to  overflowing. "  It  would 
have  taken  Gabriel's  trumpet  to  call  the  little  party  together 
after  it  was  separated  and  tucked  away  in  remote  corners  of  the 
town  for  the  remaining  hours  of  the  night.  The  wild  rumors 
of  rough  roads  on  this  trip  were  not  altogether  a  dream,  but  the 
little  stage  rolled  along  rather  smoothly,  excepting  the  last  two 
miles,  and  there  the  scenery  was  so  wild  and  enchanting,  with 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    441 

vast  amphitheatres  and  curiously  shaped  lava  rocks,  that  the 
most  critical  people  would  forget  the  roughness  and  lose  them- 
selves in  admiration  of  nature's  freaks. 

It  was  a  real  Idaho  day,  full  of  bright  sunshine,  with  clear, 
pure  air  laden  with  the  perfume  of  the  many  wildfiowers  that 
covered  the  ground  between  the  tall  sage.  The  sage-brush  or 
sage  trees  are  very  abundant  throughout  Idaho,  and  wherever 
sage-brush  grows  luxuriantly  the  soil  will  produce  any  kind  of  a 
crop  by  irrigation.  In  fact,  the  sage-brush  was  about  all  the 
growth  there  was  on  the  vast  open  lands  of  southern  Idaho,  and 
the  same  is  true  of  much  of  the  other  Western  Territories.  Yet 
the  sage  tree  has  been  the  means  of  the  development  of  the 
whole  country;  it  is  abundant,  bums  quickly,  and  makes  a  very 
hot  fire.  It  is  the  freighter's  salvation  from  Jack  Frost.  Steeped 
as  a  tea,  it  is  an  infallible  remedy  for  mountain  fever.  The 
poor  homesick  sufferer  drinks  the  decoction  and  finds  hope 
renewed  in  its  bitter  dregs.  Here  too  the  greasewood  shrub 
will  give  relief  from  thirst  if  one  will  chew  the  leaves.  Thus  has 
kind  Providence  provided  for  the  wayfarer  in  this  desert  land. 

Arriving  at  Snake  River  the  ferry  boat  was  safely  tied  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  stream.  Snake  River  is  the  largest  of  the 
three  important  tributaries  of  the  Columbia;  it  is  never  smaller 
than  the  Connecticut  and  sometimes  it  carries  half  the  volume 
of  the  Columbia.  It  takes  a  long  circuitous  curve  through 
southern  Idaho,  then  northwest  into  Oregon  and  Washington. 
Its  winding  course  presents  many  grand  features,  but  the  cap 
sheaf  of  all  is  where  the  mad  stream  hurls  its  waters  into  the 
air  in  one  mighty,  despairing,  awful  leap  of  the  Shoshone  Falls. 

Night  was  upon  us  and  our  calls  were  long  and  loud  for  the 
boatman  to  come  for  us.  He  knew  we  were  to  be  there  and  the 
neglect  of  our  welfare  was  really  criminal.  We  had  no  blankets, 
conveniences,  or  comforts  for  a  night  on  the  rocks,  and  there  was 
not  one  of  us  who  did  not  take  a  turn  at  trying  to  get  notice  from 
the  other  side  of  the  river. 

It  did  not  seem  possible  that  they  could  leave  us  over  there 
for  the  night.  At  last  we  took  the  loose  canvas  from  the  stage 
and  spread  it  down  in  the  road  and,  using  our  baggage  for  pil- 
lows, quieted  down  to  the  inevitable  doom,  and  tried  to  get  a 
little  rest.  We  knew  the  locality  to  be  one  of  the  most  prolific 
for  rattlers  and  the  July  night  on  the  warm  rocks  was  more 


442  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

their   place   than  ours,   and   every  wink  of  sleep  was  but  a 
pretence. 

The  sun  did  not  get  the  start  of  us  the  next  morning,  either, 
for  we  were  up  with  the  day  to  renew  our  hallooing.  At  last  a 
man  went  leisurely  down  and  unmoored  the  boat  to  cross  over. 
It  was  a  happy  moment  for  us,  but  before  he  landed  we  felt  less 
eagerness  to  cross  than  before.  The  "ferry"  was  only  a  row 
boat,  with  a  rope  across  the  water  to  help  hold  it  in  its  course. 
The  crossing  was  so  near  the  falls  (only  three  hundred  yards 
away)  that  the  undercurrent  was  wondrously  strong  and  there 


Shoshone  Falls  from  the  hotel 

were  times  when  it  seemed  as  if  he  was  not  making  a  bit  of 
headway.  He  rowed  the  party  across  the  river  two  at  a  trip, 
and  he  required  the  passengers  to  gaze  steadfastly  upon  his 
face  until  the  main  current  was  crossed,  so  they  could  not  see 
the  twisting  around  of  the  boat  in  the  whirlpools. 

It  was  a  thrilling  hour  for  those  on  the  bank  to  watch  others 
in  the  swift  current,  and  one  boat  load  had  a  narrow  escape. 
It  was  the  last  of  the  party  and  we  were  jubilant  over  the  suc- 
cessful transfer,  when  there  was  a  crash  and  the  slender  cable 
flew  apart.  It  was  an  awful  moment,  but  by  miraculous  good 
fortune  the  boat  was  just  out  of  the  swift  current,  and  by  bending 
wilfully  on  the  oars  it  was  guided  into  sheltered  waters  and 
reached  the  shore  safely.     Another  coach  was  to  convey  the 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    443 

party  to  the  little  hotel,  but  at  the  summit  of  the  hill  leading  to 
the  falls  we  became  so  eager  to  see  everything  that  we  left  the 
"  coach-and-f our "  and  climbed  down  the  rocky  way  on  foot. 
An  impenetrable  wall  of  black  lava  rose  four  or  five  hundred  feet 
upon  the  left,  and  upon  the  right  was  a  nearly  perpendicular 
fall  of  several  hundred  feet,  with  a  roadway  winding  between  like 
a  great  serpent  to  the  valley  below. 

Nestling  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  was  a  little  house  where  food 
and  shelter  were  provided  for  the  tourist,  and  having  gone  supper- 
less  to  our  rocky  beds,  the  aroma  of  coffee  was  like  unto  wine  in 
reviving  our  spirits,  and  we  did  ample  justice  to  the  breakfast 
prepared  for  us.  There  were  all  sorts  of  excuses  made  for 
neglecting  us  the  night  before,  and  the  chief  one  was  that  no  one 
heard  us  call  or  saw  us.  We  knew  that  was  untrue,  but  there 
were  so  many  evidences  of  a  hilarious  night  by  a  hilarious  crowd 
that  we  knew  without  words  why  we  had  been  exposed  to  a  night 
out  of  hearing.  We  were  not  wanted  in  the  company  that  was 
there,  and  hard  as  our  lot  had  been  on  the  rocks  we  had  per- 
haps fared  better  than  if  we  had  crossed  over.  The  other  parties 
left  as  soon  as  the  cable  was  repaired.  If  we  had  remained  there 
another  day  perhaps  we  would  have  done  as  they  did,  preferring 
snakes  in  our  boots  and  brains  to  snakes  in  our  beds.  Now 
the  falls  are  not  made  of  snakes,  nor  did  they  seem  numerous,  but 
they  were  plentiful  enough  when  they  could  be  found  in  the 
woodbox,  under  the  stove,  or  along  on  the  cleat  from  which 
garments  were  hanging.  In  fact,  there  did  not  seem  to  be  a' 
nook  or  corner  free  from  reptile  intrusion.  Not  far  from  the 
hotel  a  man  had  built  a  little  log  cabin  and  had  stored  away  a 
plentiful  supply  of  provision  for  his  bachelorship,  as  he  pros- 
pected for  minerals  and  curios,  and  studied  the  great  voliune  of 
nature  that  surrounded  him.  He  had  been  absent  nearly  a 
week  and  on  his  return  found  the  rats  in  possession  of  his  cabin, 
and  they  did  not  propose  to  give  it  up  without  a  fight.  He  shot 
one,  but  did  not  kill  it,  and  it  escaped  through  a  hole  in  the 
floor. 

No  more  of  them  came  back  until  he  was  getting  his  first 
good  sleep  of  the  night,  when  he  was  awakened  by  heavy  scratch- 
ing and  lit  a  candle  close  by  the  bed  and  threw  his  shoe  at  the 
intruders  in  his  larder.  But  each  rat  had  on  his  war  paint  and 
determined  to  remain.    The  fight  lasted  for  several  minutes,  but 


444         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

some  well-aimed  blows  with  sticks  of  wood  finally  ended  the 
battle,  and  with  barking  breath  the  man  went  again  to  bed  and 
fell  into  a  deep  sleep.  In  the  morning  he  opened  his  eyes  to 
look  on  the  wreck,  and  there  all  cozy  and  warm  was  a  three-foot 
rattler  coiled  up  on  his  trousers,  which  lay  on  a  keg  beside  the 
bed.  When  we  arrived  at  his  cabin  he  was  ready  to  go  out  to 
find  some  dogs  for  companions  that  were  also  rat  and  snake 
killers,  or  to  give  up  his  new-made  home. 

We  engaged  a  guide  and  hastened  over  a  rocky  trail  to  the 
bank  overlooking  the  foamy  cataract.  These  falls  have  been 
termed  the  Niagara  of  the  West,  but  they  are  like  Niagara  only 
because  both  are  prodigiously  great.  There  is  no  other  similarity 
between  the  two.  These  waters  fall  not  in  one  broad,  smooth 
sheet,  but  in  a  broken,  glittering  mass  of  delicate  foamy  bril- 
liancy, which  no  pen  can  picture. 

Down  into  the  deep  chasm  the  roaring  waters  rolled,  down, 
down,  down,  two  hundred  and  ten  feet  into  the  river  bed  below, 
and  sent  back  a  shiny,  silvery  cloud  that  rose  a  thousand  feet 
upward,  then  trailed  on  the  breeze  like  a  long,  filmy  bridal  veil. 

The  volume  of  water  and  width  of  fall  is  much  less  than  the 
monarch  of  the  East,  but  the  changing  colors  and  brilliant  rain- 
bow hues  in  the  water,  the  stern  and  bold  promontories  of  black 
lava,  rising  nearly  eight  hundred  feet  from  the  river  above  the 
falls,  the  deep  abyss  into  which  the  waters  fall,  the  many  and 
curiously  water  molded  islands  on  the  brink,  the  glassy  appear- 
ance of  the  water  above,  the  wild  waves  below,  all  tend  to  make 
Shoshone  Falls  a  monarch  without  a  peer. 

Niagara,  the  falls  of  the  Yellowstone  and  Yosemite  have 
their  peculiar  charms,  but  Shoshone  Falls  have  charms  which  the 
others  cannot  possess.  Niagara  has  no  natural  scenery  to  add 
to  its  grandeur.  The  Yellowstone  is  confined  between  walls 
a  mile  high,  and  the  falls  of  the  Yosemite  are  often  dry,  and  the 
disappointed  tourist  must  content  himself  looking  at  high  dry 
marks,  where  the  waters  sometimes  flow.  At  Shoshone  Falls 
the  water  is  in  endless  abundance.  Nature  has  carved  the 
setting  in  colossal  battlements,  enchanting  curves,  pinnacles, 
and  quiet  nooks,  as  well  as  hewed-out  caves,  and  wild,  weird 
shapes  upon  all  sides. 

The  views  from  the  south  side  of  the  river  are  far  superior  to 
those  of  the  north  side.     The  party  climbed  down  to  each  out- 


Shoshone  Falls  from  below 


445 


446  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

reaching  point  and  every  projection  revealed  new  grandeur. 
From  one  point  the  main  fall  only  could  be  seen,  from  another 
the  main  fall  and  the  lower  falls,  away  above  with  the  islands; 
then,  again,  the  main  falls  would  be  in  plain  view,  the  Rainbow 
falls  and  chiselled  rocks,  with  pretty  curves,  and  at  all  times 
would  the  high  walls  send  back  a  thousand  echoes  of  the  wild  roar. 

To  reach  the  river  below  the  falls  there  was  a  hand  over  hand 
slide  down  a  rope,  a  climb  across  a  deep  fissure  on  a  fallen  tree, 
then  through  a  thickly  wooded  ravine  into  a  cave. 

This  cave  was  in  the  centre  of  a  pyramidal  mountain,  and 
from  the  very  peak  there  trickled  down  a  pure  stream  of  water, 
ice  cold,  and  of  sufficient  volume  to  form  a  lake  inside  the  cave, 
which  must  be  skirted  to  reach  an  opening  on  the  river  side. 
Then  by  climbing  down  a  rocky  stairway,  the  water's  edge  is 
reached,  where  the  waves  dash  on  the  bank  like  a  stormy  sea 
and  rise  into  the  majesty  of  ocean  swells.  The  awful  grandeur 
of  the  scene  envelops  one  in  a  bewildered,  yet  enchanting  mist 
of  wonderment,  with  thoughts  as  deep  and  vague  as  the  waters' 
depths.  Peals  of  thunder  and  drops  of  rain  were  truly  unwel- 
come signals  that  we  must  turn  from  this  whirlpool  of  roars  and 
echoes  to  the  calm  shelter  of  a  roof,  and  we  made  the  climb  back- 
ward reluctantly  to  the  cheery  fire  in  the  Dewey  House  parlor. 

Mr.  Dewey,  who  had  been  a  carpet  merchant  of  Omaha, 
Neb.,  had  built  the  Dewey  House  in  Shoshone,  and  also  built 
the  little  Dewey  Hotel  at  Shoshone  Falls,  hoping  some  day  to 
have  travel  to  warrant  building  a  more  imposing  house.  Whether 
it  has  been  built  I  do  not  know.  Idaho  has  been  slow  in  its 
development,  but  it  has  many  a  hidden  wonder  besides  its 
mountains  of  precious  metals,  lying  in  the  silence  of  unt ravelled 
sections,  waiting  for  the  trend  of  civilization  to  reveal  their 
marvellous  charms. 

Idaho  has  89,600  square  miles.  It  is  larger  than  the  six 
New  England  States.  It  reaches  four  hundred  and  eighty- 
seven  miles  up  into  its  panhandle,  and  its  southern  line  is  more 
than  three  hundred  miles  wide.  In  1880  it  had  but  32,000 
people;  it  did  not  triple  the  number  for  ten  years,  but  now  it  has 
the  dignified  population  of  400,000.  Idaho  was  the  forty-fifth 
star  on  our  flag,  but  it  has  the  proud  distinction  of  being  the 
second  State  in  the  Union  to  have  Woman  Suffrage. 

When  Idaho  was  first  organized  as  a  Territory,  it  comprised 


Shoshone,  a  Disappointed  Railroad  Centre    447 

what  is  now  Montana,  Dakota,  Wyoming,  and  Idaho.  It 
was  considered  the  most  wonderful  and  mysterious  of  all  the 
Federal  Union,  and  it  stood  that  way  for  five  years,  when  the 
Government  subdivided  it  into  the  three  Territories.  Idaho 
became  a  State  in  1890,  with  the  Hon.  Geo.  L.  Shoup  as  its  first 
governor. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 


A  HEART-BREAKING  TRIP  ACROSS  THE  LAVA  STRETCHES  OF 

IDAHO 

W.  G.  CASE 
had  been  a  most 
successful  iron 
master  of  Pennsyl- 
vania, who  sup- 
^^S^^^--  posedly  had  plenty 
of  capital  to  assist 
in  carrying  out  the 
plans  of  the  Land 
Company,  and  as  a  man  of  large  business  experience  he 
was  made  manager  of  affairs  in  Idaho.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Case  were  very  much  older  than  ourselves,  but  we  looked 
forward  to  the  rough,  hard  trip  with  joy  in  their  companion- 
ship, although  we  had  many  misgivings  about  their  endurance, 
and  marvelled  at  such  a  venture  for  them  at  their  advanced 
ages. 

We  reached  Salt  Lake  in  May,  1882,  and  were  ready  to  start 
for  the  Northwest  on  the  Friday  morning  following,  when  much 
to  our  surprise  our  new  friends  declined  to  make  a  move  on 
Friday.  We  told  them  that  Washington,  Shakespeare,  and 
Napoleon  were  born  on  Friday,  Queen  Victoria  was  married  on 
Friday,  the  Battle  of  Bunker  Hill  was  on  Friday,  and  our  good 
old  Declaration  of  Independence  was  signed  on  Friday,  but  there 
was  no  persuading  them  from  their  superstitious  fear  of  the  day, 
and  with  a  feeling  of  regret  we  could  not  conceal  we  left  them  to 
enjoy  the  day  as  best  they  could.  They  joined  us,  however,  in 
Ogden  on  Saturday,  only  to  renew  their  protestations  against 
being  on  the  road  on  Sunday,  and  obliged  us  to  wait  there  until 
Monday.  Tuesday  morning,  however,  we  arrived  in  Blackfoot, 
from    which    point   the   Oregon    Stage    line   trailed  westward. 

448 


The  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho  449 

Thinking  the  stage  trip  might  be  too  hard  for  them,  the  Land 
Company  had  bought  a  span  of  horses,  with  a  suitable  carriage, 
that  we  might  drive  over  the  stage  road  on  our  own  time  to 
Hailey.  The  horses  had  not  yet  arrived,  and  we  had  to  wait 
still  another  day  there  for  them  to  come.  In  the  meantime 
Mrs.  Case  was  taken  ill  and  detained  us  several  days  longer  in 
Blackfoot,  which  was  far  from  a  comfortable  place  to  put  one's 
time  in,  even  if  in  good  health,  and  already  the  outlook  for  the 
long  trip  ahead  of  us  began  to  look  rather  blue. 

It  was  a  wonderful  sight  to  see  the  great  stacks  of  freight 
piled  about  wherever  there  was  room,  waiting  to  be  shipped  to 
the  interior.  The  consignments  were  not  all  food  stuffs,  but 
they  indicated  supplies  for  many  commercial  enterprises.  The 
mining  interest,  timber  interests,  stockraising,  and  all  em- 
ployments of  the  land  in  embryo,  were  taking  on  a  life  and 
activity  that  was  but  the  forerunner  of  to-day's  develop- 
ment. 

Expecting  to  live  much  in  the  open  air  while  on  our  way  to 
Hailey  and  Boise  City,  we  started  out  with  a  large  hamper  of 
plain  edibles  and  plenty  of  blankets,  but  no  tents.  We  hoped 
to  reach  a  habitable  ranch  or  stage  station  every  night,  but  an 
untried  carriage  and  horses  might  leave  us  stranded  in  the  middle 
of  the  sage-brush  desert.  It  is  true  there  was  not  a  tree  for 
hundreds  of  miles  at  a  stretch  on  that  lonely  drive,  but  the  sturdy 
dwarf  sage-brush  was  plentiful,  and  it  made  a  quick,  hot  fire 
when  it  was  needed.  We  also  had  to  carry  demijohns  of  water, 
for  after  leaving  Blackfoot  there  was  no  water  for  forty  or  fifty 
miles,  except  that  hauled  by  teams  to  the  stage  stations.  But 
at  last  we  were  on  our  way,  and  the  first  half  day's  drive  was  to  a 
station  called  "Root  Hog,"  so  called  because  the  place  was  so 
filthy  that  it  was  deserving  of  no  other  name.  It  was  the  same 
in  every  respect  as  it  was  on  our  trip  of  two  years  previous,  and 
it  is  beyond  me  to  give  a  pen  picture  of  the  contracted  hut,  with 
its  low,  dirt  roof,  dirt  floor,  and  dirt  everywhere  else,  and  filthy 
dirt  at  that.  However,  we  were  obliged  to  stop  there  to  give 
water  and  feed  to  our  horses,  although  our  own  meal  we  took 
from  the  carriage  hamper.  It  did  not  seem  possible  that  a 
human  being  lived  there  in  such  dreary  desolation,  but  his  appear- 
ance was  in  pitiable  keeping  with  his  surroundings.  His  swarthy 
face  was  covered  with  an  unkempt  beard,  and  his  black  hair  was 
29 


450        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

matted  around  his  head  and  neck  until  he  looked  more  like 

some  untamed  animal  than  a  man. 

His  dog  was  noted  for  killing  more  rattlesnakes  than  any 

ten  men,  and  in  evidence  of  his  ability  the  glossy,  mottled  skins 

of  numberless  snakes  were  hanging  all  over  the  fence,  tacked  on 

the  hut,  and  spread  on  the  roof,  while  strings  of  rattles  were 

without  number. 

When  we  had  passed  this  place  on  a  previous  trip  in  the 

stage-coach,  a  quick 

change  of  horses  had 

been  made,  and  we 

hurried  on,  and  did 

not  see   how   awful 

the  place  was,   and 

it  reflected  no  credit 

to  a  stage  company 

„,  .        ,  ,      ,  that    would     allow 

water  earners  of  the  desert  .          i        ^        •  ^ 

such  a  place  to  exist 

as  a  station  on  its  line,  but  the  driver  said  that  no  one  else 

would  live  there. 

From  Root  Hog  we  made  a  drive  of  sixteen  miles  where  we 
put  up  for  the  night.  We  had  a  good  supper  and  breakfast,  but 
we  slept  with  nine  persons  in  one  room.  The  beds  were  hard 
and  stuffed  with  wild  hay,  and  so  were  the  pillows.  Around 
our  beds  hung  narrow  strips  of  white  muslin  for  screens,  which 
Pard  thought  did  about  as  much  good  as  a  pair  of  pantaloons. 

Next  morning  it  was  discovered  that  our  back  axle  was  sprung 
and  necessitated  a  careful  drive  for  the  next  twenty  miles, 
until  we  reached  a  station  having  the  stage  company's  black- 
smith shop,  when  we  stopped  for  repairs  and  lunch.  The  Cases 
were  carrying  a  very  heavy  trunk  tied  on  the  back  of  our  con- 
veyance, and  it  made  no  end  of  trouble,  for  the  conveyance  was 
not  built  to  carry  such  a  back  load.  The  delay  was  so  long 
that  we  could  only  go  fifteen  miles  more  to  Champagne,  where  we 
put  up  again  for  the  night.  Thus  far  we  had  enjoyed  excellent 
roads,  smooth  and  comparatively  free  from  dust.  We  were, 
however,  warned  of  bad  roads  ahead,  and  were  on  our  way  by 
half  past  six  the  next  morning.  Mrs.  Case  had  stood  the  trip 
thus  far  very  well,  but  such  roads  as  we  had  that  day  it  was  never 
before  my  lot  to  see.     We  expected  rocky  roads  through  the 


The  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho 


451 


lava  beds,  but  we  were  not  expecting  such  terrible  mudholes. 
We  had  made  a  number  of  trips  over  the  lava  and  knew  so  well 
that  they  were  without  a  parallel  for  roughness  and  ruts,  but, 
in  addition  to  that,  now,  though  the  summer  dust  was  sleeping, 
the  spring  mud  was  bottomless.  We  needed  all  the  exuberance 
of  youth  and  the  wis- 
dom of  age  to  get  us 
through  that  day.  In 
going  over  the  road 
by  stage  with  six  or 
eight  fresh  horses 
every  few  miles,  bad 
roads  could  be 
covered  without  such 
great  difficulty,  but 
our  two  tired,  but 
faithful,  horses  hourly 
drew  nearer  the  limit 
of  their  endurance. 

I  cannot  begin  to 
portray  the  trials  of 
that  day  on  the  lava 
beds.  Thousands  of 
acres  of  black  rock, 
as  hard  as  iron,  rose 
in  waves,  jagged 
points,  and  minarets 
from  a  few  inches  to 

twenty-five  feet.  The  melting  snows  dripping  into  soil-filled 
crevices  had  so  destroyed  what  little  resistance  the  earth  had 
given  that  it  was  not  possible  to  know  what  calamity  might 
befall  us. 

The  road  skirted  the  valley  and  kept  close  to  the  foot  of  the 
mountains  when  it  was  possible  to  do  so,  but  there  were  mud- 
holes  in  which  our  horses  were  nearly  drowned,  and  again  the 
conveyance  went  in  so  deep  that  the  wagon  box  dragged  in 
the  mire.  Once  both  horses  and  wagon  were  in  so  deep  that  it 
seemed  as  if  all  the  king's  oxen  could  not  draw  them  out.  For- 
tunately for  us,  at  that  crisis  the  daily  stage  was  coming 
close  behind  us,  and  as  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  pass  us 


The  way  one  feels  after  several  days  in  a  stage 
coach 


452         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

with  the  coach,  their  horses  were  added  to  ours,  and  we  were 
rescued  from  our  perilous  position  without  breakage.  But  Mrs. 
Case  became  so  excited  that  she  was  thrown  into  a  hysterical 
chill,  and  required  our  united  efforts  to  calm  her  agitation. 

We  had  broken  an  axle  at  noon,  and  when  we  had  been 
patched  up  again  and  reached  the  end  of  the  drive  for  the  day- 
there  was  a  wonderful  sense  of  relief.  The  station  was  called 
Fish  Creek,  because  the  stream  was  so  full  of  trout  at  certain 
seasons  of  the  year.  We  saw  no  meat  except  ham,  and  its  savory 
ordor  was  appetizing,  but  we  happened  to  see  the  old  darky  cook 
drop  a  slice  of  it  on  his  boot  and,  having  the  good  of  his  employer 
at  heart,  he  picked  up  the  ham  and  threw  it  into  the  skillet  with 
the  rest.  Every  one  was  surprised  to  see  the  ham  pass  our  end 
of  the  table  untouched,  and  I  heard  some  one  whisper  that  we 
must  be  Jews. 

There  were  six  beds  in  the  dining-room  where  we  had  to  sleep, 
and  they  were  all  occupied  before  morning.  Mrs.  Case  was 
quite  ill  and  went  to  bed  at  once  and  her  supper  was  served  to 
her  there.  There  were  no  draperies  whatever  around  our  bed 
that  night,  and  the  chinks  between  the  boards  of  the  room  and 
the  kitchen,  and  also  on  the  other  side  into  the  stage  driver's 
bedroom,  were  large  enough  for  a  cat  to  crawl  through.  The 
doors  were  on  the  swing  all  the  time  while  I  was  trying  to  re- 
adjust my  apparel  to  get  some  rest,  and  people  passed  through 
the  room  as  if  it  were  a  hallway.  The  baby  of  the  family,  a  child 
of  only  eighteen  months,  had  a  tapeworm,  and  the  poor  waif 
cried  nearly  all  the  time,  but  it  ate  more  than  any  grown  person 
I  ever  knew. 

We  reached  Hailey  safely  about  four  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon, with  hearts  full  of  thanksgiving  and  in  fairly  good 
spirits. 

Weary  and  worn,  we  retired  to  our  respective  rooms  early, 
grateful  for  the  privacy  from  prying  eyes,  if  not  from  listening 
ears;  happy  in  the  realization  of  a  safe  journey,  and  needing 
only  a  little  rest  to  set  our  brains  and  bodies  in  motion  again ; 
but  how  little  we  know  in  this  changing  world  what  a  few  hours 
will  bring  to  us. 

About  two  o'clock  the  next  morning,  when  in  the  deepest 
of  good  sleep,  we  heard  most  distressing  shrieks  for  Mr.  Case 
and  for  ourselves.     Jumping  from  bed  we  rushed  down  the  hall 


The  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho  453 

and  found  Mr.  Case  lost  to  consciousness  in  an  epileptic  fit  and 
Mrs.  Case  in  a  frenzy  of  despair.  It  seemed  as  if  he  would  never 
open  his  eyes  to  us  again.  He  was  a  large  man,  weighing  more 
than  240  pounds,  and,  in  spite  of  his  white  hair,  he  had  been 
such  a  picture  of  vigorous  health,  that  it  was  now  appalling  to 
see  him  so  helpless.  When  he  rallied  at  last  for  a  moment  it  was 
only  to  relapse  into  a  second  attack,  and  even  a  third.  The 
doctors  worked  with  him  faithfully  and  long;  but,  as  he  regained 
consciousness  he  got  into  such  an  awful  temper  that  we  thought 
him  insane,  and  the  wife  grew  as  distressed  for  the  temper  as  for 
the  illness  of  her  spouse.  The  doctors  made  a  blister  five  or 
six  inches  square  on  the  small  of  his  back,  and  it  had  to  be 
dressed  at  least  every  two  hours.  We  begged  them  to  get  a 
nurse,  and  could  not  understand  their  refusal  to  do  so,  but  she 
weepingly  begged  me  to  dress  his  back ;  she  was  so  nervous  that 
she  hurt  him  and  he  would  then  give  vent  to  such  a  torrent  of 
abuse  that  her  tears  would  blind  her  until  she  could  not  see 
what  she  was  doing. 

It  was  impossible  to  refuse  her  tearful  appeal,  and,  much 
against  Pard's  wishes,  I  was  gradually  worked  into  the  com- 
plete care  of  him  as  well  as  of  Mrs.  Case.  He  rallied  in  a  few 
days,  but  whether  from  good  nursing  or  because  he  had  to  curb 
his  temper  no  one  can  tell. 

She  seemed  to  rally  some  as  he  improved,  but  there  was  no 
doubt  but  we  should  push  on  to  Boise  City  as  soon  as  possible 
where  they  could  get  better  medical  attendance.  When  he 
seemed  really  well  enough  to  travel  he  was  not  quite  in  his  right 
mind,  and  we  had  many  misgivings  about  starting  out  with  him. 
Pard  and  I  heartily  wished  them  back  in  the  States,  and  tried  to 
persuade  them  to  return  by  stage  and  we  would  go  with  them, 
but  they  were  wilfully  set  on  completing  the  journey  to  Boise, 
and,  deplorable  as  it  was,  they  relied  upon  us  to  get  them 
there.  We  left  Hailey  with  strict  orders  from  the  physicians  to 
watch  Mr.  Case  every  moment,  day  and  night,  for  in  his  mental 
state  he  was  an  unsafe  companion,  and  he  was  as  strong  as  a 
steam  engine. 

Mrs.  Case  began  to  feel  worse  as  soon  as  we  were  out  of 
Hailey  and  on  the  long  lone  highway  to  Boise  City,  which  meant 
another  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  drive.  The  place  where  we 
spent  the  first  night  out  we  could  get  nothing  to  eat,  but  were 


454        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

told  that  just  a  few  miles  further  on,  at  Willow  Creek,  we  could 
get  a  good  breakfast. 

There  we  found  rather  an  uninviting  cabin  among  the  wil- 
lows, but  the  buxom  hostess  looked  as  if  she  might  set  up  quite 
an  eatable  breakfast.  We  were  resting  in  the  little  living-room 
of  the  cabin,  waiting  for  the  breakfast  to  be  prepared,  when  she 
rushed  through  the  room  to  her  bed  and  drew  out  a  pan  of 
rising  bread  from  under  the  covers,  saying  with  a  smile: 
"  I  always  put  the  bread  in  my  bed  when  I  get  up  in  the  morning, 
because  it  is  so  nice  and  warm  that  it  makes  it  rise  quicker." 
We  looked  at  each  other  aghast,  and  smothered  an  explosion  of 


We  found  rather  an  uninviting  cabin  among  the  willows 

laughter  that  nearly  choked  us  before  she  got  out  of  the  room 
with  her  dough,  and  it  is  needless  to  say  that  we  wondered  why 
we  delayed  for  a  breakfast  that  no  one  wanted,  and  after  a 
pretence  of  eating  we  hurried  away. 

Before  noon  we  broke  a  spring  again;  it  was  the  heavy  trunk 
that  was  our  hoodoo  from  the  start,  and  it  caused  many  a  weary 
drag  along  the  road  to  reach  a  place  for  repairs.  It  was  for- 
tunate that  we  were  on  the  overland  stage  road  where  there  was 
an  occasional  stage  company's  blacksmith  shop  to  keep  us  in 
order,  and  the  smithy's  was  usually  our  first  objective  point  as 
soon  as  we  reached  a  settlement. 

As  we  stopped  for  the  noonday  rest  we  spread  some  blankets 
on  the  ground  and  made  the  sick  as  comfortable  as  we  could. 
I  read  a  pleasing  story  aloud  while  waiting  for  the  pot  to  boil 


The  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho  455 

over  a  little  campfire,  and  when  they  had  their  tea  and  a  little 
sleep  they  felt  better  and  stronger  to  continue  the  day's  ride. 

Just  as  we  were  leaving  our  bivouac,  Pard  hastily  handed 
over  the  lines  and  jumped  from  the  carriage.  He  did  not  stop 
to  tell  the  cause,  and  of  course  I  tried  to  stop  the  horses.  He 
stepped  on  the  moving  wheel  and  was  thrown  first  forward  and 
then  backward,  his  back  striking  the  wheel,  and  I  thought  we 
were  going  to  ride  over  him,  but  he  made  a  quick  move  out  of 
the  way  and  dashed  for  the  horses'  heads.  Then  I  saw  what  he 
had  seen  at  first — that  one  line  was  not  hooked  to  the  bit,  and 
disaster  was  too  imminent  to  wait  for  explanations.  We  were 
on  a  little  knoll  where  in  turning  around  the  carriage  would 
have  upset,  and  we  might  have  met  with  serious  accident,  if  not 
death,  by  being  dragged  behind  an  uncontrollable  runaway 
team.  It  was  a  fright  that  had  its  effect  upon  all  of  us,  and  I 
knew  by  Pard's  white  face  that  he  had  hurt  his  back,  although 
he  would  not  acknowledge  it  then. 

When  we  arrived  at  the  Jones  ranch,  in  the  middle  of  Camas 
Prairie,  for  the  night,  it  was  a  mournful  party.  Mrs.  Case  had 
such  a  sick  headache  that  vShe  had  to  be  undressed  and  put  to 
bed  like  a  child.  I  gave  her  a  little  toast  and  tea,  which  I  had 
begged  leave  to  prepare  for  her  myself,  and  then  gave  her  a 
headache  powder,  which  I  hoped  would  soon  quiet  her.  She 
moaned  incessantly,  as  she  always  did  when  not  feeling  well, 
and  she  could  not  be  persuaded  to  stop  it.  Mr.  Case  ate  his 
supper  in  bed  while  I  was  caring  for  his  wife,  and  I  had  to  pre- 
pare and  apply  a  fresh  poultice  for  his  back,  and  in  time  he,  too, 
was  tucked  away  and  asleep.  Pard  and  I  then  sat  down  to  a 
cold  supper  and  summed  up  the  disasters  of  the  day,  longing  for 
the  time  when  we  would  be  in  a  stage-coach  again  instead  of 
driving  our  own  team  under  such  conditions. 

We  were  trying  to  laugh  at  our  misfortune  when  Pard  bit 
an  unexpected  bone  in  his  food  that  broke  the  filling  out  of  a 
tooth,  and  gave  him  a  jumping,  roaring  toothache.  Poor  Pard ! 
Poor  me!  A  hot  bag  of  sand  for  his  tooth,  another  rubbed  and 
bathed  back,  which  was  by  that  time  as  painful  as  the  tooth,  a 
little  hot  toddy,  and  my  tired  companion  was  laid  out  as  com- 
fortable as  was  possible  in  a  bed  on  the  floor  in  the  same  room 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Case,  the  latter  still  moaning  with  every 
breath.     In  describing  the  events  of  that  day  in  a  letter  to  my 


45^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

mother,  I  said:  "Is  it  any  wonder,  Mother  dear,  when  I  had 
the  other  three  of  our  party  quiet  that  I  got  over  next  to  the 
wall,  covered  up  my  head  so  no  one  could  hear  me,  and  had  a 
good  cry?" 

For  three  days  after  leaving  Hailey  we  made  our  average 
of  fifty  miles  per  day  with  our  heroic  team,  in  spite  of  the  two 
sick  people,  and  many  and  varied  mishaps,  but  when  we  drove 
up  in  front  of  the  old  Overland  Hotel,  in  Boise  City,  I  wanted  to 
shout  with  joy.  We  were  at  last  where  we  could  get  a  physician 
and  nurse  for  the  sick,  which  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Case  sorely 
needed.  They  were  too  erratic  for  me  to  understand.  That 
morning  Mrs.  Case  wanted  buttermilk,  at  the  next  place  she 
wanted  lobbered  milk,  at  noon  she  wanted  tea  and  lemonade, 
and  on  arrival  in  Boise  she  insisted  on  having  some  vinegar  to 
drink.  When  once  the  mind  of  either  of  them  was  set  on  having 
something,  there  was  no  peace  until  they  had  it,  and  their  wishes 
were  often  as  unreasonable  as  that  for  the  vinegar. 

We  were  horrified  that  for  two  or  three  days  after  our  arrival 
in  Boise  they  persisted  in  their  refusal  to  call  a  doctor,  or  have 
a  nurse.  Mrs.  Case  kept  her  bed  with  heavy  shawls  wrapped 
around  her,  and  two  or  three  blankets  over  her,  weakening  her- 
self in  hot  sweats  with  the  thermometer  at  95°  in  the  shade. 

It  was  a  gross  injustice  to  themselves  and  an  injustice  to  us  that 
was  problematical  until  in  a  business  transaction  it  developed  that 
before  they  started  on  this  trip  they  had  lost  all  their  money 
through  unwise  investments,  and  although  deceiving  us  from 
the  outset  they  had  hoped  to  retrieve  themselves  when  once 
they  were  in  Idaho.  It  was  a  hard  blow  to  the  Improvement 
Company,  and  to  us  individually.  It  had  been  preying  on  their 
minds  all  the  time,  but  we  did  not  even  suspect  for  a  moment 
that  it  was  lack  of  means  that  made  them  fail  to  provide  a  nurse 
and  other  comforts  for  themselves.  For  several  days  a  battle  of 
wrath  and  sympathy  was  kept  up  with  first  one  on  top  and  then 
the  other,  but  sympathy  finally  won  the  day  and  Colonel  Case 
was  allowed  to  hold  his  office  for  a  little  while  in  the  hope  that 
he  might  yet  be  restored  to  his  former  mental  strength,  and  his 
years  of  business  experience  be  of  benefit  to  himself  and  the 
company.  Their  condition  was  indeed  pitiful,  and  in  spite  of 
the  hardships  they  had  imposed  on  us  our  hearts  were  full  of 
pity  for  them. 


The  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho  .457 

It  was  a  black  Friday  trip  from  their  first  refusal  to  travel 
on  the  Scotchman's  lucky  day,  and  it  taught  us  many  lessons 
by  which  we  profited  in  all  our  later  journeyings.  Both  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Case  came  from  high  Pennsylvania  families  of  the 
old  Quaker  type,  and  were  related  to  some  of  the  best  people 
in  the  State,  but  age  and  adversity  melted  them  into  strange 
moulds,  before  God  finally  gathered  them  in  His  merciful  arms. 

The  limit  of  their  requirements  of  me  which  I  did  not  grant 
was  one  night  when  Pard  was  to  be  away  down  the  Boise  valley, 
looking  for  a  location  for  the  townsite  now  known  as  Caldwell. 
The  Overland  Hotel  was  a  two-story,  rambling  building  on  a 
corner,  and  it  was  made  up  of  several  buildings  which  had  been 
connected  for  hotel  purposes.  A  long  hall  ran  at  right  angles 
on  the  second  floor,  and  our  respective  apartments  were  at  the 
extreme  ends  of  the  right  angle  passage.  Mrs.  Case  asked  that 
she  might  stay  with  me  the  night  Pard  was  away,  and  that  I 
make  three  or  four  trips  during  the  night  to  Mr.  Case's  room 
to  see  whether  he  was  having  another  fit.  It  was  indeed  un- 
fortunate that  such  helpless  creatures  ever  left  their  home  nests, 
and  their  enfeebled  condition  made  their  lot  really  pitiable.  As 
soon  as  they  could  fully  care  for  themselves  we  left  them  in  a 
private  family  and  returned  to  Hailey  by  stage. 

Day  passed  into  night  and  night  into  day  before  our  horse? 
went  prancing  up  to  the  Grand  Central  Hotel  in  Hailey.  It 
is  a  noticeable  fact  that  stage  horses  are  always  gay,  light,  and 
free  of  foot,  with  heads  high  in  the  air,  when  the  dash  is  made 
through  a  town,  but  once  on  the  route  outside  they  settle  into  a 
steady  jog,  kept  alive  only  by  the  crack  of  the  whip,  and  the 
driver's  persuasive  voice,  in  words  commanding  if  not  choice. 

The  people  of  Hailey  were  in  high  spirits  over  the  promise  of 
the  railroad  branch  from  Shoshone,  and  their  courtesies  were 
showered  upon  us  so  bountifully  that  we  were  overwhelmed. 
T.  E.  Picotte,  of  the  Hailey  Times ^  announced  a  reception  at  the 
hotel  for  the  following  evening,  to  be  held  in  our  honor,  and  it 
came  off  with  great  credit  to  the  little  town  among  the  green 
hills.  The  editor  himself  climbed  the  mountainsides  for  arm- 
fuls  of  beautiful  Mariposa  lilies  for  decorations,  and  with  the 
Bellevue  Comet  Band  to  enliven  the  occasion,  the  citizens  of 
Hailey  filed  in  in  such  merry  numbers  that  our  hearts  warmed 
to  them  all,  and  we  forgot  the  trials  of  our  frontier  life  for  the 


458         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

time  at  least,  and  pledged  them  all  the  help  in  our  power  to 
promote  their  interests. 

Every  one  wanted  to  do  something  for  us;  invitations  to 
breakfasts,  luncheons,  and  dinners  were  frequent,  and  if  they 
could  not  entertain  at  home  they  sent  a  cake,  fruits,  flowers,  and 
even  a  span  of  horses  and  a  carriage  was  placed  at  our  disposal 
while  there.  One  day  when  Pard  came  in  I  had  just  finished 
reading  a  note  which  had  accompanied  several  gracious  gifts, 
and  my  eyes  were  swimming  in  tears  that  I  could  not  hide. 
Begging  to  know  the  cause  of  them  he  was  at  once  full  of  sym- 
pathy and  anxiety.     I  only  needed  a  little  more  tenderness  Hke 


^^, //7>  v.-   -^    —    '—' '--H^ 


Preparing  for  a  quick  change  of  horses 

that  to  make  me  boo-hoo  in  earnest,  and  I  could  only  manage 
to  say  between  sobs  that  I  was  crying  because  everybody  was 
so  good  to  us. 

I  do  not  cite  these  incidents  for  any  other  reason  than  to 
show  what  favorable  circumstances  we  were  travelling  under. 
It  is  unfair  to  have  selected  any  one  town  as  an  example.  There 
were  no  doors  closed  to  us,  no  favors  withheld,  no  pains  spared 
to  make  our  stay  in  any  locality  as  bright  and  pleasing  as  cir- 
cumstances would  permit.  Favors  too  numerous  to  mention 
here  were  bountifully  extended  to  make  our  hard  experiences 
as  pleasant  as  possible.  The  nature  of  Pard's  work  was  a 
charm — an  "open  sesame" — that  made  the  people  welcome  us 
as  their  deliverers  from  the  loneliness  and  trials  of  oblivion  to 
the  door  of  affluence  and  companionship. 

It  was  a  joy  and  a  coveted  blessing  to  have  the  resources  of 
their  country,  so  many  miles  from  railways,  written  up  so  exten- 
sively and  sent  broadcast  over  the  world;  for  the  Union  Pacific 


The  Lava  Stretches  of  Idaho  459 

Company  did  not  confine  its  generosity  to  the  United  States 
alone,  but  sent  the  pamphlets  and  papers  all  over  Europe. 

Pard's  monthly  publication,  The  New  West  Illustrated,  was 
bristling  with  statistics  and  descriptions  of  the  grand  scenery  of 
the  great  Northwest.  He  had  now  revised  his  book  on  Wyoming, 
written  one  on  Montana  resources,  and  also  issued  the  artistic 
compilation  of  Where  Rolls  the  Oregon.  His  mission  to  learn 
the  value  of  lands  and  resources  of  the  Northwest,  and  then 
prepare  and  circulate  the  information  everywhere,  was  the 
making  of  history  never  to  be  undone.  It  started  a  trail  of 
homeseekers,  which  is  now  almost  beyond  the  capabilities 
of  many  railroads  to  care  for.  Whether  out  in  the  wilderness  or 
in  his  office  at  the  Union  Pacific  headquarters  in  Omaha  or 
Denver,  he  was  constantly  besieged  for  more  information,  until 
he  became  a  walking  encyclopaedia  on  the  then  "Far  West." 

He  spent  the  most  of  a  night  making  up  titles  for  his  book 
To  the  Rockies  and  Beyond,  resulting  in  long  hours  of  thought 
and  a  long  page  of  titles  to  submit  to  the  railroad  officials  next 
day  for  a  selection.  Thos.  L.  Kimball,  then  General  Passenger 
Agent  of  the  Union  Pacific  Company,  read  the  first  one  and  said, 
"Nothing  could  be  better  than  To  the  Rockies  and  Beyond''  and 
drew  his  pencil  across  the  others  without  reading  them.  Poor 
Pard,  exhausted  by  his  lack  of  sleep,  was  inclined  to  be  indig- 
nant at  the  slight  of  the  others,  but  he  was  immediately  com- 
pensated when  Mr.  Kimball  said  to  lose  no  time  in  having  fifty 
thousand  copies  published  for  their  free  bureau  of  information, 
and  those  books  guided  many  a  restless  spirit  to  home  and  for- 
tune in  the  fertile  West. 

Montana  was  the  first  Territory  to  awaken  to  the  possibilities 
such  an  advertising  medium  would  bring  about,  and  it  was  the 
genial,  honest-hearted  Robert  Fisk,  of  the  Helena  Herald,  who 
grew  so  eloquent  in  his  praise  of  the  work.  Wanting  some  good 
to  come  to  us  out  of  his  land  of  adoption,  he  said,  when  referring 
to  the  newspaper  work  I  was  just  undertaking  "that  Montana's 
scenic  grandeurs  were  the  charms  that  broke  the  chrysalis  from 
Mrs.  Strahom's  embryonic  literary  talent  and  developed  its 
charming  colorings." 

His  gracefully  clothed  compliment  has  ever  been  like  a  gay 
colored  butterfly  for  my  peacock  book,  containing  other  news- 
paper encomiums.      To  be  so  hospitably  received  gave  us  new 


460         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

inspiration  for  working  the  pencil,  and  made  all  hardships  much 
easier  to  bear.  The  courtesies  were  often  bestowed  with  much 
embarrassment  to  ourselves,  yet  bestowed  in  a  way  that  could 
not  be  declined  without  offence. 

Hailey  was  made  up  largely  of  people  from  Boise,  and 
as  they  had  already  spent  years  of  waiting  for  a  railroad 
they  had  now  moved  a  hundred  and  fifty  miles  nearer  the 
promised  steel  ribbons,  and  were  doubly  anxious  to  see  them 
coming.  It  was  not  only  those  who  had  a  personal  axe  to  grind 
who  were  generous  in  their  favors,  for  those  were  days  when 
public  spirit  and  general  good  to  all  was  the  popular  feeling. 

Hailey  was  so  located  that  all  commerce  in  or  out  of  that 
part  of  the  country  must  pass  through  its  gates.  There  were 
hundreds  of  miles  of  radiating  trails  into  the  upper  Salmon 
River  country,  and  the  Saw  Tooth  Mountains,  as  well  as 
the  Smoky  range  and  the  head  waters  of  Boise  River.  Miners 
were  drifting  into  side  hills  everywhere,  and  many  of  them  found 
fabulously  rich  pockets,  which  lured  the  travelling  van  of  gold- 
seekers  in  great  numbers. 

Hailey  also  had  as  an  attraction  some  fine  hot  springs,  which 
alone  should  have  made  the  town  a  summer  resort  of  renown,  but 
as  yet  they  were  unimproved  except  for  a  rough  board  wall 
around  the  hole  scooped  out  in  the  rock  for  a  plunge  bath,  which 
with  all  its  rudeness  proved  a  fountain  of  youth,  utilized  by 
many. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 
IN  THE  CAMPS  OF  THE  GRADERS 


T  is  easy  to  understand 
what  joy  there  was  in 
seeing  the  whole 
Northwest  country  re- 
sponding to  the  magic 
work  of  the  pen,  and 
in  the  awakening  of 
slumbering  riches  for 
a  phenomenal  trans- 
formation. From  sea- 
son to  season,  as  we  crossed  again  and  again  the  great  stretches 
of  sandy  lands,  there  was  ever  a  revelation  of  progress  that 
made  our  hearts  glad. 

The  midsummer  conference  of  the  Land  Company  had  re- 
sulted in  a  request  that  our  next  trip  across  Idaho's  desert  lands 
should  be  on  the  line  of  the  new  railroad  grade,  instead  of  on  the 
regiilar  stage  road.  The  stage  line  still  started  from  Blackfoot 
on  the  Utah  &  Northern  road  to  go  westward  to  Wood  River, 
Boise,  and  the  Coast,  but  the  Oregon  Short  Line  Railroad,  on  its 
triangular  course  from  Green  River,  was  to  cross  the  Utah  & 
Northern  Railroad  about  thirty  miles  further  south  than  Black- 
foot,  and  they  had  located  a  town  at  the  crossing  called  Pocatello 
— a  location  that  was  the  veritable  breeding  ground  for  mosqui- 
toes, and  employes  had  to  wear  nettings  around  their  heads  day 
and  night  to  have  any  peace. 

The  party  made  up  for  the  initial  part  of  this  excursion  over 
the  grade  was  Hon.  A.  Caldwell  and  wife  of  Leavenworth,  Kansas, 
and  Sam.  B.  Jones,  the  genial  General  Passenger  Agent  of  the 
Union  Pacific,  who  was  the  funny  man  of  the  party,  just  as  he  was 
always  the  electric  needle  of  the  Omaha  office,  to  prick  into  life 

461 


462         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

any  sleeping  wit  or  humor.  Then  there  was  Mr.  H.  T.  Brown, 
editor  of  the  Butte  Miner,  W.  P.  Emmert,  a  capitaHst  of  Free- 
port,  IlHnois,  Charles  Crane  of  the  noted  elevator  company  of 
Chicago,  and  Pard  and  myself. 

Mr.  Crane  preceded  the  company  by  a  few  days  to  Soda 
Springs  in  Idaho,  and  was  to  join  us  at  the  northern  border  of 
Utah,  but  much  to  oiu:  surprise  he  backed  out  when  within 
twenty  miles  of  the  Springs  and  returned  to  Denver,  on  his  way 
East,  horrified  at  the  hardships  in  store  for  the  party.  He  little 
dreamed  what  the  opening  of  this  western  chestnut  burr  meant  to 
the  prosperity  of  his  company.  We  could  not  induce  him  to 
resimie  the  trip,  and  he  took  the  first  train  for  Chicago. 

In  Salt  Lake  City  there  were  some  pretty  strong  rules  laid 
down  for  the  party,  for  it  was  a  most  hazardous  venture  to  go  on 
such  a  trip  with  so  many  untried  companions.  It  surely  requires 
the  most  delicate  judgment  to  make  up  a  travelling  party  under 
the  best  of  circumstances,  yet  here  were  nine  or  ten  people, 
whose  endurance  was  unknown  to  each  other,  starting  out  to  face 
endless  inconveniences  and  hardships.  There  is  not  a  more 
severe  test  of  a  person's  virtues  than  in  constant  association 
through  the  trials  and  annoyances  of  pioneer  travelling,  and 
more  especially  when  crude  camp  life  must  form  a  part  of  the 
experience. 

Bitter  enemies  and  lifelong  hatred  are  often  the  results  of 
mistaken  judgment  in  selecting  companions  who  cannot  be 
comrades  when  the  hour  of  trial  comes.  We  had  learned  to  be  al- 
most severe  in  ttuning  from  the  many  who  insisted  upon  joining 
us  in  travels,  and  our  trip  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Case  had  now  filled 
us  with  forebodings  for  the  hotu-s  when  trials  would  come  on  this 
trip;  yet  in  looking  over  the  gathering  there  was  joy  in  the 
thought  that  all  were  in  good  health,  which  was  a  partial  assur- 
ance of  harmony  to  the  end  of  the  trail,  and  there  were  enough 
people  in  the  party  to  overcome  almost  any  difficulties  that 
might  arise. 

To  guard  against  even  a  thought  of  dissension,  Mrs.  Caldwell 
and  I  went  into  the  Mormon  co-operative  store  in  Salt  Lake  and 
bought  a  good  strong  rope,  the  especial  requirement  being  that  it 
must  be  strong  enough  to  hang  a  man.  The  clerk  looked  up  in 
much  stKrprise,  and  scanned  us  closely  when  we  assured  him  that 
we  were  in  earnest,  and  only  after  several  had  been  rejected  the 


In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders 


463 


good  coin  was  laid  down  for  about  twenty  feet  of  three-quarter- 
inch  rope,  that  seemed  equal  to  any  strain  we  might  require  of  it. 
It  was  sent  to  the  hotel  in  the  name  of  one  of  the  gentlemen  of  the 
party,  and  a  messenger  was  sent  from  the  store  to  follow  us  and 
find  out  who  was  preparing  for  such  gruesome  episodes.  It 
made  much  sport  for  the  party  because  we  had  detectives  on  our 
trail  so  soon,  but  the  gentlemen  hailed  the  rope  with  delight, 


A  Mormon  family  by  the  wayside 

thinking  of  course  that  we  were  planning  our  own  punishment,  as 
we  would  be  the  first  to  complain,  and  it  was  at  once  unani- 
mously agreed  upon  that  the  first  one  who  found  fault  with  con- 
ditions, food,  circumstances,  or  lack  of  water,  should  be  lashed  for 
the  first  offence  and  hung  by  the  thumbs  for  the  second.  Pard 
and  I  knew  there  was  not  a  tree  on  the  whole  route  but  we  said 
nothing.  The  rope  was  never  to  be  out  of  sight,  and  a  little  bell 
was  to  give  the  alarm  whenever  there  was  cause  to  be  on  the 
alert. 

The  rope  made  more  sport  for  us  than  anything  else  on  the 
trip.  No  one  dared  to  insinuate  how  anything  might  be  im- 
proved without  first  saying  that  he  was  not  complaining,  for 
he  liked  things  as  they  were,  but  for  the  benefit  of  the  others  he 
would  like  to  make  a  suggestion. 

The  morning  of  the  fourteenth  of  October  we  were  given  a 
little  heart  chill  when  we  looked  out  of  our  windows  at  the  Walker 


464         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

House  in  Zion  City  and  saw  the  valley  covered  with  snow,  and 
the  airy  flakes  quietly  falling.  It  boded  well  for  the  use  of  the 
rope  before  we  were  out  of  Salt  Lake  City,  but  before  noon  the 
sun  came  out  warm  and  clear,  and  the  white  mantle  was  soon 
melted  into  trickling  streams,  thus  encouraging  us  to  bid  adieu 
to  the  City  of  Saints  for  the  land  where  saints  were  few. 

A  special  train  carried  the  party  over  the  narrow  gauge  Utah 
&  Northern  road  to  Pocatello,  which  was  then  the  terminus  of 
the  road  going  into  Montana,  and  it  was  indeed  a  tent  town, 
with  all  the  activity,  wickedness,  and  glaring  freedom  of  an 
awakening  metropolis. 

When  the  road  was  first  started  west  from  Pocatello  it  was 
built  narrow  gauge  the  same  as  the  Utah  and  Northern;  it  was 
done  simply  to  facilitate  the  carrying  of  supplies  into  the  desert 
country,  and  it  was  just  being  changed  to  a  broad  gauge  road, 
and  we  were  obliged  to  wait  in  Pocatello  twenty-four  hours  for 
the  change  to  be  completed  to  the  end  of  the  track.  When  the 
time  came  to  widen  the  gauge  of  the  Utah  &  Northern  road,  it 
was  completed  its  entire  length  of  over  three  hundred  miles  in 
one  day,  from  Ogden  to  Silver  Bow,  Montana. 

We  secured  one  small  tent,  large  enough  to  accommodate 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Caldwell,  Pard  and  myself,  and  the  others  had  to 
sleep  in  the  railroad  company's  office  tent,  where  the  employes 
were  as  thick  as  grains  of  sand  on  the  dirt  floor.  It  is  a  big  jump 
from  the  tent  town  of  Pocatello  to  the  town  of  to-day,  with 
its  $200,000  pay-roll  and  its  miles  of  paved  streets. 

It  was  a  night  of  carousals  around  about  the  settlement,  and 
the  morning  light  was  accompanied  by  a  loud  voice  that  be- 
tokened a  dairy  close  by.  Loud  and  clear  rang  the  beseeching 
call  of  "So  bossy,  So  bossy,"  and  other  expressions  used  to 
quiet  the  giver  of  the  prized  lacteal  fluid.  Mrs.  Caldwell's  musical 
laugh  rang  out  in  gladness  over  the  prospect  of  her  coveted 
coffee  and  cream  for  breakfast,  until  her  attention  was  called  to 
the  suspicious  clinking  of  tin  and  spoon,  while  the  industrious 
"milker"  was  beating  the  condensed  milk  and  water  together, 
thus  deceiving  the  tenderfoot  into  the  belief  that  a  real  live 
milk  cow  was  nearer  than  a  hundred  miles. 

One  very  strange  fact  about  a  cattle  country  is  the  entire  ab- 
sence of  milk,  cream,  and  butter.  It  is  beneath  the  standard  of 
a  cowboy  to  milk,  and  with   the  thousands  of  cattle  in  a  herd 


In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders  465 

there  is  no  milk  except  that  bearing  the  condenser's  label  on  a  tin 
can,  and  stockmen  often  went  without  butter  entirely.  That 
was  an  almost  universal  condition  throughout  the  Northwest  at 
that  time,  and  it  has  not  changed  on  many  cattle  ranches  to  the 
present  day. 

Pocatello  lies  in  a  beautiful,  three-cornered  valley  of  the 
Bannock  Mountains,  and  it  is  the  only  gateway  through  southern 
Idaho.  The  railroad  company  and  its  contiguous  interests  fought 
long  and  desperately  before  they  obtained  more  than  a  squatter's 
right  on  the  Indian  Reservation.  Pocatello  was  for  a  time  a 
veritable  plague  spot,  equalled  only  by  Lost  River  Station,  some 
seventy  miles  northwest  of  Pocatello,  and  there  was  a  lively  rivalry 
for  supremacy  in  the  number  of  annoyances  supplied,  which  was 
finally  ended  by  giving  Lost  River  the  precedence  because  of  its 
environment  of  alkali  dust  and  numerous  snakes,  making  the 
mosquito  plague  only  a  crowning  touch  for  one's  agony. 

A  would-be  aspirant  for  glory  at  Pocatello  said  he  often  went 
to  bed  after  hours  of  hard  work  trying  to  make  his  tent  tight 
from  mosquitoes  (it  did  not  take  half  that  long  to  produce  that 
condition  for  himself),  and  added,  "I  have  lain  there  with  my 
watch  under  one  pillow,  my  pistol  under  the  other,  the  axe  by  my 
bed,  butcher  knife  under  the  straw  tick,  a  hoot  owl  on  the  roof, 
coyotes  in  the  sagebrush  and  bugs  in  my  ears,  waiting  and 
listening  for  mosquitoes,  keeping  awake  far  into  the  night  out  of 
sheer  dread  of  the  miserable  insects.  Just  last  night  some  got 
in — ^great,  overgrown  fellows,  all  wings,  legs,  and  spears.  They 
whined  and  whistled  for  hours,  dragging  their  big  feet  over  my 
face  and  stabbing  me  repeatedly.  I  slapped  and  cuffed  at  them 
there  in  the  dark  until  I  was  worn  out.  Then  when  I  had  slept 
a  few  minutes,  daylight  began  to  dawn,  whereupon  I  got  up  and 
sat  in  a  chair  to  rest  myself  before  beginning  the  labor  of 
the  day." 

I  never  was  at  Pocatello  in  the  mosquito  season  in  those  early 
days  but  that  all  the  railroad  employes  and  everybody  else 
who  had  to  stay  outdoors  wore  coverings  like  a  scoop-net  over 
their  heads  and  necks.  Mosquitoes  swarmed  like  bees  about 
one's  head,  and  it  was  impossible  to  fight  them  off  with  the  hands. 
The  day  that  we  waited  there  was  full  of  excitement;  it  was  a 
veritable  beehive  of  activity,  whether  the  incentive  was  good  or 
bad.  It  was  an  initiation  into  frontier  life  for  Mrs.  Caldwell  and 
30 


466         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


some  of  the  others  who  were  having  a  first  experience  in  the  far 
West,  that  required  plenty  of  good  common- sense  to  grapple 
and  accept. 

It  was  expected  that  carriages  from  Hailey,  a  hundred  and 

seventy-five  miles 
away,  would  be  at 
the  terminus  of 
the  railroad  to 
take  the  party  on 
at  once.  As  we 
had  been  delayed 
a  day  by  the 
changing  of  the 
railroad  from  the 
narrow  to  stand- 
ard gauge  there 
was  no  doubt  but 
the  conveyances 
would  be  waiting 
our  arrival.  A 
special  train  was 
made  up  and  the 
initial  trip  over 
the  road  was  made 
to  a  point  about 
twenty  miles  west 
of  American  Falls 
of  Snake  River. 

These  falls  were 
a  wonderful  pana- 
cea for  eyes  filled 
with     dust     and 
grime,    and  for 
o  n  e's      anatomy 
groaning  under 
distorted    nerves 
and  muscles  from 
the  two  nights  spent  in  Pocatello,  and  the  flying  dust  clouds   of 
the  rough  new  railroad  bed.     The  great  sheeny  foam  dancing 
over    rocks    in    the    cool    deep    fissures,  the  maddened  stream 


Courtesy  Lee  Moorehouse,  Pendleton,  Ore. 

A  princess  of  her  tribe 


In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders  467 

plunging  over  precipice  after  precipice,  sending  its  refreshing 
atmosphere  to  quiet  yet  to  invigorate  our  tired  minds  and 
bodies,  was  a  palliative  that  was  greatly  appreciated.  The  train 
stopped  for  half  an  hour  that  we  might  enjoy  the  waters  to 
the  fullest  extent,  as  it  was  the  last  we  would  see  of  the  coveted 
running  liquid  for  several  days  to  come. 

Then  the  train  creaked  slowly  along  to  the  end  of  the  track. 
Our  outfit  was  unloaded  on  a  glaring  sand  pile,  for  there  was 
neither  platform,  station,  nor  tent  to  receive  anythmg,  but  the 
whole  territory  of  Idaho  spread  out  before  us  again,  which  ought 
to  have  sufficed,  and  it  did.  But  the  horses  and  carriages  were 
not  there!  In  vain  our  eyes  scanned  the  vast  arid  plains  to 
the  west  for  some  signs  of  our  rescuers,  but  no  objects  rose  in  the 
dim  distance,  not  even  a  cloud  of  dust  to  betray  any  incoming 
travellers. 

We  had  been  persuaded  to  bring  the  one  little  tent  along  thus 
far  from  Pocatello,  for  fear  of  this  detention  and  how  thankful 
we  were  for  it  amid  such  dare-devil  surroundings. 

The  special  car,  free  from  its  load  of  humanity,  blankets,  and 
edibles,  steamed  backward,  and  left  us  at  the  mercy  of  a  bad 
camp.  We  felt  like  clinging  to  it  as  a  friend  and  saviour  from  what 
lay  before  us,  but  no  one  would  be  first  to  express  a  desire  for  it  to 
stay,  because  no  one  wanted  to  show  the  white  feather  and  be  the 
butt  of  ridicule,  so  backward  it  flew  beyond  recall. 

This  camp  was  such  a  terror  that  the  graders  themselves 
called  it  "Camp  Hell."  We  had  official  orders  to  get  supplies 
needed  from  the  grade  camps,  such  as  water,  hay,  teams,  or  pro- 
visions, for  now  we  were  off  the  great  highway  of  the  stage  line 
to  traverse  an  unknown  and  untried  route,  except  as  we  followed 
the  engineers'  or  graders'  stakes  for  the  oncoming  road  for  several 
hundred  miles. 

Water  for  the  graders'  camps  had  to  be  brought  from  Snake 
River,  some  twenty  or  more  miles  away,  and  the  local  boss  of 
the  graders  exacted  a  promise  not  to  waste  a  drop  of  it. 

Pard  went  about  the  camp  to  make  himself  known  to  the  men 
in  charge  and  see  about  hay  and  grain  for  the  expected  horses. 
He  showed  his  papers  of  authority  for  obtaining  such  supplies 
as  needed,  and  was  getting  along  very  well  when  a  blear-eyed 
tough,  already  full  of  bad  whiskey,  insisted  on  making  Pard's 
acquaintance,  and  to  that  end  he  wanted  to  set  up  the  drinks. 


468         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

When  the  besotted  man's  courtesy  was  refused  his  wrath  knew  no 
bounds.  He  exhausted  his  vilest  vocabulary,  interspersed  with 
oaths  and  curses,  and  turning  away  said  he  would  get  his  "can- 
opener"  and  shoot  the  heart  out  of  any  man  who  would  not  take 
a  social  drink  of  whiskey  with  him.  While  he  was  after  his  gun, 
Pard  hit  the  high  places  leading  back  to  our  place  of  refuge,  and 
said  we  did  not  need  any  hay  anyway  until  the  horses  came. 

The  supper  was  cooked  over  a  sage-brush  fire  as  remote  from 
the  graders  as  possible,  and  the  pleasant  savory  smell  quickened 
the  appetite  more  than  any  royal  banquet  ever  served.  An 
early  breakfast,  a  day  of  travel,  with  a  cold  lunch,  the  fatigue  and 
excitement  of  the  day  with  an  excess  of  ozone,  had  created 
appetites  that  needed  no  teasers. 

Mr.  Jones  presided  as  cook  that  night  and  as  it  was  his  sixth 
wedding  anniversary,  he  wondered  what  his  dear  little  wife  would 
say  if  she  knew  he  was  in  "23"  holding  the  frying  pan  over  the 
fire.  He  regretted  that  he  was  so  near  the  genuine  Hades  that 
he  could  not  even  telegraph  her  how  he  was  progressing.  Every- 
body wanted  to  do  something,  if  it  was  only  to  tell  a  good  story, 
for  on  the  end  of  the  ridge  pole,  in  full  view,  dangled  the  rope  for 
the  grumbler. 

With  the  promise  not  to  waste  the  water,  it  could  not  be  used 
to  wash  the  dishes,  and  they  were  taken  out  to  a  clean  sand  pile, 
and  thoroughly  scoured,  which  made  them  shine  like  mirrors. 
One  learns  many  such  tricks  when  adversity  is  the  teacher. 

When  the  night  preparations  were  made,  every  one  seemed 
anxious  to  mail  a  letter  from  the  camp  with  a  fiery  name.  One 
used  a  pillow  for  a  table,  one  an  old  pasteboard  box,  another 
used  a  paper-covered  book,  another  the  top  of  the  mess  box,  and 
all  were  hovering  around  a  solitary  tallow  candle  that  was 
stuck  into  a  potato  to  hold  it  upright.  A  hush  of  contentment 
had  fallen  upon  the  party,  when  whiz,  zip,  szzz,  the  bullets  began 
to  fly  around  us,  and  threw  us  into  spasms  of  fear.  They  made 
holes  in  the  tent,  and  struck  the  ground  around  us,  while  we  made 
barricades  of  our  baggage  and  kept  close  to  the  ground.  The 
shooting  continued  at  intervals  all  night,  and  while  it  was  not 
aimed  at  us  all  the  time,  it  was  near  enough  to  indicate  the  camp 
was  rightly  named.  I  had  never  been  more  frightened  by  Indians 
than  by  that  indiscriminate  shooting  of  white  men ;  shooting  sim- 
ply because  they  were  drunk  and  reckless,  not  caring  for  results. 


In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders  469 

Early  next  morning  Pard  and  Mr.  Jones  made  a  second  visit 
to  the  camp,  and  made  arrangements  for  a  team  and  wagon  to 
take  us  out  of  such  an  unfortunate  position,  but  before  we  could 
get  started  clouds  of  dust  betrayed  the  approach  of  our  own 
rescuing  party. 

One  team  was  driven  by  Alene  Case,  a  son  of  the  former 
General  Manager  of  the  Idaho  and  Oregon  Land  Improvement 
Company,  who  bore  many  scars  resulting  from  a  Heidelberg 
education,  and  who  was  ready  at  the  drop  of  a  hat  to  put  his 
education  into  practice.  Another  team  was  driven  by  H.  C. 
Wallace,  the  secretary  of  said  company,  and  the  third  one  was  a 
man  known  to  be  fond  of  his  cups,  and  a  man  who  was  glad  in  his 
later  life  that  he  kept  sober  on  that  trip,  for  a  couple  of  years  or 
so  later  we  drew  him  out  of  a  river  more  dead  than  alive ;  but  he 
had  so  much  whiskev  aboard  there  was  not  room  for  water,  so  he 
did  not  drown. 

It  was  necessary  to  feed  and  rest  the  horses  before  we  could 
get  away,  and  while  Mr.  Case  was  taking  the  harness  from  one 
team  his  revolver  dropped  from  its  holster  to  the  ground  and  was 
discharged.  Pard  was  indignant  beyond  control  at  such  careless- 
ness, knowing  the  nervous  tension  that  was  holding  the  party,  and 
he  feared  this  shot  in  our  own  camp  might  start  a  fresh  fusilade 
from  the  gun  players  of  the  previous  night.  He  exclaimed  with 
much  feeling:  "Why,  Case,  what  confounded  carelessness;  that 
might  have  hit  a  horse."  Mr.  Case  never  tires  of  telling  that 
story,  and  adding  that  it  would  have  made  no  difference  whether 
he  himself  was  shot  or  not,  it  was  the  horse  that  was  needed  to  get 
the  party  away  from  there,  and  the  matter  of  leaving  him  there 
seemed  of  no  importance  whatever. 

Mr.  Jones  and  Mr.  Case  lost  no  time  in  having  a  disagree- 
ment, clouds  of  ill  humor  began  to  darken  the  clear  skies  of  our 
happiness  and  reached  for  us  like  an  arm  of  an  octopus  out  of 
camp  23.  Each  party  chose  sides,  and  for  a  time  matters  loomed 
dark,  but  a  truce  was  finally  established,  and  we  all  hoped  it 
would  not  be  violated. 

Mr.  Wallace  and  Mr.  Emmert  made  a  second  attempt  to 
visit  the  enemy's  camp  and  procure  some  hay,  but  no  one  could  be 
found  who  would  carry  it  to  our  camp  after  it  was  bought.  Mr. 
Wallace  refused  even  to  assist  in  carrying  the  baled  dinner  for  the 
tired  steeds,  and  finally  Mr.  Emmert,  whom  we  all  called  "Uncle 


470         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Billy,"  picked  up  the  bale  of  hay,  slung  it  over  his  shoulders  of 
sixty-five  years,  and  came  whistling  all  the  way  to  camp.  It  was 
not  the  only  time  that  dear  "Uncle  Billy"  put  younger  men  to 
shame  by  shouldering  loads  that  were  thought  too  heavy  for  one 
to  carry. 

It  was  impossible  to  make  the  trip  equipped  with  servants 
and  helpers,  and  the  lack  of  facilities  made  "haste"  the  first 
motto.     To  make  haste  the  party  had  to  be  kept  in  harmony, 


**They  gambled  in  the  light  of  the  sage-brush  fire" 

and  every  one  had  to  do  his  part  as  it  came  to  hand  to  do.  It  is 
not  often  one  can  get  a  United  States  Senator,  a  General  Passen- 
ger Agent  of  a  transcontinental  railroad,  an  editor  of  a  prominent 
paper,  and  the  head  of  a  literary  bureau  of  the  most  important 
railway  company  in  the  West,  who  would  undertake  such  a  trip, 
knowing  that  he  must  take  a  turn  at  the  frying  pan,  gathering 
sticks  for  a  fire,  and  in  doing  all  the  necessary  and  homely 
things  that  arise  in  an  impromptu  camp. 

The  day  wore  on  with  many  delays  before  it  was  possible  to 
start  out  on  the  highway,  but  there  was  no  stopping  for  us  when 
once  the  move  began  until  out  of  range  of  bullets  from  "Skidoo," 


In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders  471 

and  the  graders*  tents  were  lost  in  the  dusty  distance.  There 
are  not  many  who  can  tell  of  a  trip  to  Hades  with  a  return  ticket, 
and  be  able  to  recount  its  environments  so  accurately  as  we  felt 
qualified  to  do,  although  it  is  likely  that  no  two  of  us  would 
describe  it  alike  except  in  name. 

The  graders'  camps  were  scattered  along  twelve  to  twenty 
miles  apart  for  a  hundred  or  more  miles  and  the  only  wagon 
road  was  that  made  in  bringing  in  their  supplies.  Some  of  the 
camps  were  like  a  peaceful  valley  in  their  quiet  and  orderly  con. 
duct  and  others  were  nearly  as  bad  as  the  one  at  the  end  of  the 
track. 

We  were  generally  able  to  learn  about  the  camps  ahead  and 
avoid  the  worst  ones.  The  third  night  we  tried  to  keep  away 
from  Smith  camp  and  made  a  rendezvous  among  some  sheltering 
rocks.  But  the  night  was  bitterly  cold  and  the  red  glow  of  our 
campfire  ascended  skyward  in  a  startling  telltale  fashion. 

Mr.  Caldwell  and  Pard  tried  to  plan  a  comfortable  place  for 
Mrs.  Caldwell  and  myself  to  sleep ;  the  wagon  box  was  given  up 
as  too  cold  and  blankets  too  few.  When  Mr.  Caldwell  gave  a 
lecture  in  Kansas  City  after  this  trip  he  said  that,  "At  this 
juncture  Mrs.  Strahom  suggested  sleeping  four  in  a  bed."  No 
one  claimed  the  suggestion,  but  it  was  carried  out  and  its  success 
was  as  much  in  doubt  as  who  made  the  motion.  To  put  the 
bedding  on  one  way,  it  was  too  narrow  and  the  other  way  was  too 
short,  so  it  was  alternated  and  umbrellas  braced  over  our  heads 
to  keep  off  the  thick  white  frost  and  cold  wind.  The  rocks  were 
undulating,  hard,  and  sharp.  We  were  like  blades  in  a  jack-knife, 
and  when  one  turned,  all  had  to  turn  to  keep  the  covers  right. 
Those  in  the  middle  were  too  warm  and  those  on  the  outside  were 
too  cold  and  withal  it  was  a  wretched  night. 

To  add  to  our  discomfort  a  party  of  tough  looking,  heavily 
armed  men  with  a  big  Bannock  Indian  had  evidently  come  out 
from  the  graders'  camp  and  they  went  into  quarters  close  by  us. 
We  were  at  a  loss  to  know  what  their  intentions  were.  Our 
horses  were  brought  in  and  guarded  against  a  stampede  and  our 
party  drew  in  closer  together  for  the  night  while  one  was 
appointed  to  keep  awake  and  be  on  guard. 

The  new  party  tethered  their  bronchos  in  the  near  sage-brush 
where  we  could  see  them  in  the  clear  starlight.  One  man  was 
kept  busy  bringing  in  fuel  while  the  others  with  the  big  Indian 


472         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

buck  sat  in  a  bunch  and  gambled  in  the  light  of  the  sage-brush  fire 
regardless  of  the  bitter  cold  air. 

It  was  a  curious  proceeding  at  best  and  the  game  was  still 
on  when  the  night  was  well  advanced.  Toward  morning  the 
guard  himself  fell  asleep  and  when  he  awoke  the  neighboring 
party  had  vanished  like  a  bad  dream. 

We  were  up  with  the  first  red  streaks  in  the  eastern  sky.  Mrs. 
Caldwell  and  I  made  meagre  toilets  under  the  extended  bows  of 
the  umbrellas  and  were  glad  enough  when  our  hot  coffee  and 
breakfast  was  served  to  us.  Water  had  frozen  half  an  inch  in 
the  buckets  and  we  marvelled  how  those  men  could  sit  there  in 
the  open  air  and  gamble  so  many  hours  in  such  an  atmosphere. 

The  fourth  day  out  we  reached  Little  Wood  River  and  camped 
where  the  town  of  Shoshone  was  afterward  located  and  the  rail- 
road branched  off  to  Hailey.  The  running  water  was  the  first 
we  had  seen  since  leaving  American  Falls  and  we  were  like  chil- 
dren in  our  delight  to  play  in  it.  Mr.  Jones  repeatedly  filled  and 
emptied  a  bucket  before  he  would  even  give  any  one  a  drink. 
We  remained  on  the  banks  for  several  hours  and  after  our  noon- 
day meal,  when  settled  into  a  more  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  singing 
water,  several  bullets  came  whizzing  through  the  air  and  buried 
themselves  in  the  earth  beside  us.  It  was  a  special  dispensation 
of  Providence  that  no  one  was  hit.  The  shots  came  from  across 
the  river  in  a  thicket  and  we  never  learned  whether  it  was 
accident  or  malice  that  brought  the  shots  our  way. 

The  Kilpatrick  Bros,  were  the  chief  contractors  for  that  rail 
line  and  their  camp  was  reached  for  our  last  night  out.  Robert 
Kilpatrick  was  in  charge  accompanied  by  his  wife.  When  she 
was  in  the  field  with  him  there  was  never  any  carousing  or 
boisterousness  in  the  camp.  The  workmen  paid  her  every 
possible  courtesy  and  she  lived  like  a  Cleopatra. 

It  is  not  the  men  who  do  the  work  who  make  such  camps  a 
terror,  but  it  is  the  gang  of  thieves,  cutthroats  and  gamblers,  who 
follow  along  to  get  the  money  from  the  laborers  when  pay-day 
comes. 

Mrs.  Kilpatrick's  tent  was  divided  into  apartments  by  oriental 
hangings  and  the  floors  and  seats  were  covered  with  skins  of 
wild  animals  such  as  buffalo,  bear,  coyote,  and  others  that  had 
frequented  the  routes  of  their  work  in  the  great  West.  The 
lamp  shades  were  made  of  snake  skins  and  the  bed  was  of  deer 


In  the  Camps  of  the  Graders  473 

skins  covered  with  a  magnificent  bison  robe  bought  from  the 
Indians.  She  was  a  beautiful  woman  in  all  that  the  name  implies, 
and  much  of  her  time  was  devoted  to  the  betterment  of  the  men 
in  her  husband's  employ.  It  was  a  joy  to  meet  them  again  and 
they  joined  our  cavalcade  and  journeyed  on  to  Hailey. 

The  Hailey  Times  devoted  nearly  a  whole  issue  to  possibilities 
that  might  accrue  to  Idaho  from  the  visit  of  such  a  party — 
Mr.  Strahorn  and  Mr.  Jones  to  work  up  immigration  and  the 
railroad  business,  Mr.  Emmert  to  build  a  new  hotel  for  the  town, 
Mr.  Caldwell — who  was  turning  out  eight  thousand  wagons  a  year 
in  Kansas — to  lay  a  foundation  for  his  business  as  well  as  to 
promote  the  townsite  schemes  of  the  Idaho  and  Oregon  Land 
Improvement  Company.  There  was  a  continual  ovation  from 
the  hour  of  our  anival,  and  at  last  a  grand  ball  to  close  the  visit. 

There  were  the  usual  conditions  of  a  new  mining  town  and 
everybody  was  at  the  ball  from  bartenders  and  table  waiters  to 
miners,  merchants,  professional  men,  and  ministers  of  the  Gospel 
with  their  wives  and  sweethearts.  But  even  that  ball  showed  a 
degree  of  conventionality  quite  unusual  in  mining  camps,  for 
every  man  wore  a  full-dress  suit.  There  were  no  mishaps  or 
dissensions  and  harmony  reigned  supreme  throughout  the  festiv- 
ities. Hailey  was  ever  an  unusual  town  for  its  social  culture  and 
conventionalities  and  when  the  line  for  the  four  hundred  was 
drawn,  it  was  so  cleverly  brought  about  that  no  one  was  offended. 

It  is  an  inspiration  when  one  sees  a  town  born  and  develop 
into  life  full  of  business  activity  in  a  few  days*  or  weeks'  time.  It 
seemed  no  longer  than  a  dream  since  Hailey  was  a  grassy  upland 
without  a  habitation  save  for  the  little  log  cabin  hidden  in  the 
willows  on  the  river  bank.  Everything  was  happening  that  al- 
ways happens  in  new  camps;  saloons,  dance  halls,  and  gambling 
dens  far  outnumbered  any  other  money-making  or  money-losing 
enterprises.  Miners  would  dig  away  with  pick  and  shovel  all 
day  and  spend  their  earnings  in  town  at  night.  Yet  with  all  the 
wild  dissipation  one  never  heard  of  a  woman  being  insulted  or 
assaulted  and  those  very  debauchers  would  shoot  to  kill  any  one 
who  would  molest  the  sacred  fair  sex. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


AGAIN  TO  THE  PACIFIC  WITH  SENATOR  AND  MRS.  CALDWELL 


Copyright  by  Bowman,  Pendleton,  Ore 


ARLY  i  n  November 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Cald- 
well, Pard,  and  my- 
self left  Hailey  to 
continue  our  trip 
through  to  the  Pa- 
cific Coast  on  the 
overland  stage. 
The  others  of  the 
party  had  not  the 
time  or  courage, 
and  turned  their 
faces  homeward  to 
firesides  and  com- 
forts that  the  oncom- 
ing winter  made 
needful  to  them. 
The  stage  left  Hailey  for  the  West  at  night  and  to  spare  our- 
selves at  least  one  bad  night  within  the  narrow  confines  of  the 
coach,  it  was  arranged  that  Hugh  C.Wallace,  the  Land  Company's 
secretary,  should  drive  out  with  a  private  team,  to  the  place 
where  the  stage  would  stop  to  give  passengers  breakfast.  We 
would  then  have  a  night's  rest  before  the  stage  arrived  to  take  us 
on  to  Boise  City. 

It  was  the  time  of  the  year  to  expect  almost  any  kind  of 
weather,  and  our  bright  morning  sun  was  soon  lost  in  clouds  and  a 
blinding  snowstorm  enveloped  us  in  its  bewildering  maze.  As  we 
advanced  our  progress  grew  slower  and  slower  until  we  could  no 
longer  locate  the  road  under  its  fresh  white  blanket,  and  it  com- 
pelled a  stop  at  Peck's  ranch  eight  miles  short  of  our  destination. 
It  was  a  noted  place  on  that  old  lonely  overland  road,  but  it  was 

474 


Again  to  the  Pacific  475 

not  a  convenient  or  desirable  place  to  spend  the  night  except  as  an 
alternative  to  the  storm. 

The  night  was  bitter  cold  and  the  old  stove  in  the  dirty  cabin 
was  kept  at  a  high  temperature.  The  ranch  did  not  afford  any 
comfort  but  a  shelter  and  it  was  difficult  to  arrange  even  a  place 
on  the  floor  to  rest.  The  cabin  had  but  three  rooms;  the  front 
room  was  a  store  where  a  few  commodities  were  kept  for  the 
freighters  or  possible  traveller;  the  middle  room  was  a  sort  of 
catchall  for  everything  and  the  family  bedroom ;  back  of  that  was 
the  kitchen,  with  a  dirt  floor,  and  everything  in  the  kitchen  seemed 
to  have  taken  up  a  good  part  of  the  floor.  The  contents  of  our 
own  hamper  were  far  more  tempting  than  anything  we  could  see 
there,  and  from  it  we  prepared  a  most  satisfying  repast,  after 
which  we  found  our  host  in  amiable  mood  and  ready  to  entertain 
us.  The  store  was  turned  over  to  us  for  whatever  arrangements 
we  could  make  for  the  night.  The  dirt  was  an  inch  or  two  thick 
on  everything,  and  the  stove  was  two  thirds  full  of  ashes,  but 
there  was  shelter  for  us,  and  that  meant  a  great  deal  on  such  a 
wild  night. 

Mr.  Peck's  fame  had  gone  abroad  as  an  entertainer,  and  we 
had  been  told  he  could  preach  a  sermon,  dance  a  jig,  or  play  the 
fiddle.  He  thought  some  one  had  a  grudge  against  him  if  't  was 
said  he  could  preach,  but  he  produced  a  violin  from  one  of  the 
mysterious  dark  corners  of  the  room  and  began  to  draw  the  bow 
across  the  strings.  The  style,  dress,  and  the  little  wizen  face  of 
the  old  man  reminded  us  of  the  slender  figure  of  Ole  Bull,  but  his 
attitudes  were  more  like  a  gnarled  tree  bending  in  the  breeze  on 
the  tempestuous  night. 

We  danced  to  the  strains  of  "Old  Dan  Tucker"  and  "  Money 
Musk,"  "Turkey  in  the  Corn"  and  "Dixie."  His  wrinkled  old 
face  beamed  with  joy  when  we  encored  and  urged  him  on  to  more 
revelry  to  drown  the  howling  winds.  The  hour  was  late  when  we 
made  our  beds  with  blankets  on  the  hard  floor,  thankful  not 
to  be  out  in  the  drifting  snow. 

Mr.  Caldwell,  Mr.  Wallace,  and  Pard  were  to  take  a  turn 
at  watching  for  the  stage,  as  the  driver  would  not  be  expecting 
to  find  us  there  and  would  drive  by  unless  he  was  hailed.  The 
one  on  watch  was  also  to  keep  up  the  fire.  Peck  had  guided  Mr. 
Caldwell  to  the  wood-pile  outside,  and  with  a  keen  eye  of  discern- 
ment it  was  evident  that  the  pile  of  sawed  wood  would  not  last 


47^        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

but  a  few  hours.  He  did  not  disclose  the  fact  to  the  rest  of  the 
party,  but  on  returning  said  there  was  plenty  of  wood  outside, 
and  for  Pard  to  take  the  first  watch,  he  himself  the  second, 
and  Mr.  Wallace  the  third,  and  so  it  was  settled  without  parley. 
The  second  watch  ended  and  Mr.  Wallace  came  out  of  his 
blankets  in  no  amiable  mood  to  do  his  time  on  the  lookout.  It 
was  not  long  before  he  had  to  go  for  wood,  and  when  he  reached 
the  pile  he  found  only  cordwood  lengths,  with  one  stick  nicely  laid 
in  the  sawbuck  on  which  hung  an  old  saw,  and  everything  covered 
with  snow.  The  atmosphere  on  that  side  of  the  house  became 
sulphurous  with  strong  exclamations  of  rage  and  indignation 


"Many  times  the  men  had  to  get  out  and  pick  their  way  arotmd  the 

mud-holes  " 

while  Mr.  Caldwell  and  Pard  listened  and  chuckled  over  the  fact 
that  for  Wallace  it  was  saw  wood  or  freeze,  and  he  had  to  saw. 

Fortunately  for  him  the  stage  came  along  about  half  past 
three,  but  in  spite  of  all  entreaty  the  driver  whipped  up  his 
horses  and  refused  to  stop  for  us,  saying  that  he  had  a  load. 

With  disappointment  and  chagrin  we  hurried  up  our  own 
team  hoping  to  overtake  the  stage  before  it  left  the  breakfast 
station,  but  we  arrived  just  twenty  minutes  too  late.  The 
drivers  had  changed  there  and  the  one  who  passed  us  declared  he 
did  not  know  we  were  the  ones  who  were  expected  to  get  on  the 
coach  at  the  breakfast  station,  and  that  his  only  passenger  was 
Governor  Neil  of  Idaho  who  was  going  home  to  Boise. 


Again  to  the  Pacific 


477 


The  station  was  the  same  Jones  ranch  where  we  had  such 
unhappy  experiences  in  the  spring  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Case. 
This  time  we  had  to  remain  there  twenty-four  hours,  and  also  had 
to  sleep  on  the  floor  with  six  other  people  in  the  room,  and  for 
such  accommodations  we  had  to  pay  that  "  Merchant  of  Venice" 
four  dollars  each  per  day.  It  was  a  hold-up  to  be  sure,  but  we 
were  glad  to  get  away  without  anything  worse  happening, 
although  Mrs.  Caldwell  was  very  much  fatigued. 


Cutting,  binding,  and  threshing  all  at  once 


Mr.  Wallace  returned  at  once  to  Hailey  and  we  left  the  Jones 
ranch  the  next  morning  by  stage,  and  consumed  all  day  going 
twenty-five  miles  without  getting  anything  to  eat  until  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  It  had  stormed  continuously  and  our 
jehu  was  a  veritable  Jezebel.  He  made  himself  so  obnoxious 
that  it  caused  his  discharge  and  he  made  no  more  trips  over  the 
road  as  a  driver. 

At  midnight  there  was  a  halting  at  a  station  known  as  Moun- 
tain Home,  to  wait  for  the  Kelton  stage  from  the  Central  Pacific 
Railroad  en  route  to  Boise,  and  when  it  arrived  the  two  stage 
loads  were  combined.  The  Kelton  stage  on  its  arrival  already 
had  seven  passengers,  but  there  happened  to  be  a  driver  who  knew 


478         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

us,  and  while  it  made  an  eleven  passenger  coach  carry  twelve,  he 
said  we  should  indeed  go  with  him  into  Boise,  and  he  landed  us 
safely  at  the  Overland  Hotel. 

Our  first  caller  was  Governor  Neil  who  seemed  to  be  quite 
surprised  at  our  delay  and  wondered  where  he  had  passed  us  en 
route  when  we  were  to  take  the  same  coach  with  him  somewhere 
on  the  way.  We  listened  incredulously  to  his  story,  which  he 
tried  to  make  most  impressive.  But  we  knew  of  the  empty 
bottles  found  in  his  coach  and  of  the  generous  bribe  to  the  driver 
that  he  should  be  undisturbed.  Mrs.  Neil  was  one  of  the  most 
charming  of  women,  who  made  many  warm  friends  by  her  genial 
manners  and  magnetic  presence,  and  her  position  was  one  hard 
to  fill.  To  be  lifted  from  a  sumptuous  home  in  Philadelphia  to 
the  embryo  life  of  a  Territorial  governor's  wife  was  no  easy 
transition  in  those  days.  The  Territories  were  never  able  to 
understand  why  an  Eastern  man  was  always  selected  to  the 
position  of  governor,  when  he  was  in  absolute  ignorance  of 
everything  pertaining  to  Territorial  wants  and  requirements,  and 
must  be  considered  an  interloper  who  had  to  win  a  place  for 
himself  and  his  family  before  he  could  have  more  than  toleration 
from  the  people  whom  he  was  supposed  to  serve. 

It  was  too  often  true  in  those  Territorial  days  that  some  man 
with  a  political  debt  owing  to  him,  could  be  flattered  into  a 
Territorial  governorship  and  shipped  off  regardless  of  his  qualifi- 
cations, and  the  people  of  the  Territories  had  to  suffer  for  it. 
There  were  indeed  a  few  good  men  who  drifted  into  such  a 
position,  but  even  they  were  expected  to  "make  good"  before 
being  graciously  accepted  by  the  populace. 

Boise  was  a  city  of  high  prices  and  one  needed  a  good  income 
to  live  there,  but  custom  reconciles  one  to  extortion  when  the 
salary  can  meet  it.  We  paid  fifty  cents  for  three  lemons,  and 
lemons  were  the  cheapest  of  any  imported  fruit;  local  fruit  was 
plentiful  and  some  of  the  apples  measured  twelve  and  fourteen 
inches  in  circumference  and  they  were  without  a  blemish. 

Mrs.  Neil,  the  governor's  wife,  told  me,  in  a  heart  to  heart 
conversation,  that  she  paid  a  dollar  and  a  half  for  a  flatiron  and 
two  dollars  and  a  half  for  a  lap-board.  The  price  of  the  latter 
in  the  East  was  about  twenty-five  cents.  If  one  demurred  at 
twenty-five  or  fifty  cents  for  a  paper  of  needles,  he  would  be 
promptly  informed  that  it  was  all  because  of  high  freight  rates. 


Again  to  the  Pacific 


479 


I  bought  a  pair  of  kid  gloves  for  which  I  paid  four  dollars  and 
waited  for  my  change  from  a  five-dollar  gold-piece;  when  the 
money  was  handed  to  me  it  was  six  dollars  instead  of  one.  I 
immediately  called  the  proprietor's  attention  to  the  fact  that  there 
was  a  mistake  in  the  change,  and  he  forthwith  stiffened  his  spine 
and  replied:  "  Madam,  we  never  make  mistakes  in  change  in  this 
store."  I  walked  out  with  the  six  dollars  and  a  good  pair  of  four 
dollar  gloves.  He  refused  to  go  and  look  at  the  piece  of  gold  he 
received  and  that  ended  the  matter. 


Courtesy,  Oregon-Washington  Railroad  and  N.  Co, 

The  smooth  road  one  travels  now  along  the  Columbia 

Mr.  Caldwell  was  taken  ill  in  Boise  and  in  consequence 
he  was  fairly  wrapped  up  in  poultices  of  corn  meal  and  mustard 
and  fed  on  hot  lemonade.  Subject  to  attacks  of  pneumonia  this 
sudden  illness  was  alarming,  but  such  a  blanket  of  mustard  would 
have  cured  anybody  and  he  will  never  forget  his  torturous 
health-giving  treatment. 

We  did  not  spend  many  days  in  Boise  after  he  was  able  to 
transact  business.  He  and  Pard  started  off  a  day  or  two  in 
advance  of  Mrs.  Caldwell  and  myself,  and  we  joined  them  when 
their  reconnoitring  was  over  at  the  little  town  of  Weiser.  There 
was  so  much  fruit  sent  to  us  for  the  journey  that  we  were  over- 


480         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

whelmed.  Mrs.  Neil  sent  at  least  half  a  bushel  each  of  pears  and 
apples,  and  not  fewer  than  half  a  dozen  others  sent  like  amounts. 
We  knew  the  friends  would  be  on  hand  to  see  us  off,  and  every  one 
would  know  whether  we  had  his  package  of  fruit,  and  when  we 
learned  the  stage  was  not  to  be  crowded  we  decided  to  take  it  all. 
It  made  fun  for  everybody  when  a  long  string  of  attendants 
followed  us  to  the  stage  bringing  the  loads  of  fruit  and  stowing 
it  away  in  the  various  boots  and  receptacles  of  the  old  coach. 

From  Boise  through  Weiser,  the  Huntington  ranch,  and 
Baker  City,  stopping  only  for  meals  and  to  change  horses,  we 
arrived  at  La  Grande  in  Oregon  in  the  afternoon,  and  as  the 
winter  schedule  was  in  vogue  on  the  stage  route  we  had  to  wait 
over  there  until  four  o'clock  the  next  morning. 

The  road  over  the  Blue  Mountains  was  in  a  horrible  condition 
from  the  fall  rains,  and  the  regular  stage  had  to  be  abandoned 
for  an  old  dead  axle  farm  wagon,  with  plain  boards  across  the  top 
of  the  box  for  seats.  It  surely  foretold  trouble  ahead  for  the  next 
fifty  miles  to  Pendleton.  The  seven  passengers  climbed  into  the 
wagon  only  to  learn  that  all  baggage  except  small  hand-bags  must 
be  left  behind.  Mrs.  Caldwell  was  too  ill  to  sit  up  and  she 
curled  up  on  the  bottom  of  the  wagon  box  and  rested  her  head 
on  her  husband's  knee. 

There  were  six  horses  all  the  time  and  part  of  the  way  we 
had  eight  to  get  us  through  the  deep  and  tenacious  mud.  Many 
times  the  men  had  to  get  out  and  pick  their  way  around  the  mud- 
holes  as  best  they  could,  and  even  then  the  horses  had  all  they 
could  do  to  keep  the  wagon  moving,  sometimes  getting  into  the 
mud  up  to  their  bellies.  The  driver  looked  at  Mrs.  Caldwell  and 
me  several  times  with  warlike  intentions  of  turning  us  out  to 
walk  also,  but  he  spent  his  wrath  in  mutterings  we  would  not 
hear  and  in  explosive  language  to  the  struggling  horses,  which 
he  further  helped  along  by  his  supple  whip-lash. 

When  there  was  a  good  stretch  of  road  for  a  little  distance, 
he  would  whip  up  and  gallop  over  the  rocks  and  ruts  in  a  way 
that  was  appalling.  Once  when  there  was  a  little  smoother  run 
for  a  few  miles,  a  supreme  quiet  possessed  everybody  and  old 
Morpheus  embraced  several  of  the  travellers  in  a  troubled  sleep, 
but  every  wink  of  sleep  brought  grateful  oblivion  of  surroundings. 

Mrs.  Caldwell  fell  asleep  and  forgot  her  suffering  for  a  brief 
time.     A  man  sitting  opposite  and  facing  Mr.  Caldwell  also  went 


Again  to  the  Pacific 


481 


to  sleep.  He  nodded  his  head  a  little  lower  and  a  little  lower  in 
his  sleepy  relaxation  until  Mr.  Caldwell  had  to  put  his  hand  over 
his  wife's  face  to  keep  the  man's  head  from  bumping  her's. 
Then  when  the  weary  man  awoke  he  declared  he  had  not  been 
asleep.  We  all  knew  very  well  that  he  had  been  asleep,  but  a 
few  suggestive  glances  passed  between  ourselves  and  then  some- 


8,000,000  feet  of  timber  ready  for  a  tow  to  San  Francisco 


thing  happened  to  liven  up  the  dreary  day.  Mr.  Caldwell  at 
once  assumed  the  role  of  an  injured  husband.  He  enquired 
if  he  could  find  a  sheriff  in  Pendleton,  whether  one  could  get 
justice  in  a  country  like  that,  and  what  punishment  could  be 
meted  out  for  insults,  etc.,  etc.  With  grave  and  serious  faces  we 
begged  Mr.  Caldwell  not  to  get  excited,  to  wait  and  let  the  law 
take  its  course. 

The  young  man  was  bewildered  and  his  face  grew  white  and 

31 


482         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


red  by  turns,  and  when  Mr.  Caldwell  told  him  that  his  conduct 
certainly  needed  explaining  if  he  had  not  been  asleep,  he  could 
but  wonder  what  all  the  talk  and  fuss  was  about.     We  reckoned 

there  was  a  Pinkerton 
Agency  in  Oregon,  or 
some  method  for  trac- 
ing criminals.  We 
were  all  bursting  with 
suppressed  laughter 
but  no  one  betrayed 
by  even  the  wink  of 
an  eye  that  it  was  not 
a  serious  affair.  The 
little  game  of  bluff 
was  carried  out  so 
well  that  the  young 
man  was  really  beside 
himself  with  curiosity 
and  fear.  His  friends 
said  not  a  word  to 
enlighten  him  except 
that  he  had  better 
acknowledge  that  he 
had  been  asleep. 

When  Pendleton 
was  reached  and  some 
one  told  him  what 
had  really  happened, 
he  must  have  taken 
to  the  hills,  and  may 
be  running  yet.  He 
did  not  show  up  the 
next  morning  to  con- 
tinue his  journey,  and 
was  no  doubt  in 
deadly  fear  of  being  brought  to  account  for  nodding  his  face  so 
close  to  the  sleeping  woman's,  and  probably  thinks  to  this  day 
of  his  miraculous  escape  in  hiding  from  such  an  irate  and 
vindictive  husband.  Strenuous  and  uncomfortable  as  that  ride 
was  for  Mrs.  Caldwell  she  did  not  have  one  of  those  headaches 


The  Three  Sisters 


Again  to  the  Pacific  483 

again  for  more  than  two  years,  and  she  attributed  her  aire  to 
the  outdoor  life  and  strenuous  experiences  of  that  winter's  trip. 

On  the  summit  of  the  divide,  east  of  Pendleton  and  near  the 
old  Meacham  station,  a  span  of  mules  were  stretched  out  on  the 
roadside  so  covered  with  mud  that  we  had  to  look  close  to  see 
which  was  mule  and  which  was  mud. 

Men  were  watching  the  mules  and  hoping  they  were  not  totally 
incapacitated,  and  the  men  were  almost  as  heavily  covered  with 
mud  as  the  mules.  Our  driver  stopped  to  see  what  the  trouble 
was,  and  also  to  find  a  way  around  the  wagon  blocking  our 
passage.  The  mules  had  floundered  in  an  almost  bottomless 
mudhole,  clear  over  their  heads,  and  it  required  quick  and 
strenuous  work  to  get  them  out  alive.  One  of  them  had  begun 
to  roll  around  quite  lively,  and  a  pan  of  oats  had  been  placed  a 
few  inches  from  the  nose  of  the  other,  and  the  owner  said  if  the 
mule  would  reach  for  them,  he  knew  the  "feller"  woiild  be  all 
right. 

We  had  to  get  out  of  our  wagon  and  walk  on  to  the  ranch, 
while  our  jehu  used  his  teams  to  get  the  other  wagon  out  of  the 
way  and  seek  a  safer  route  for  his  own  wagon.  Had  we  been  a 
little  earlier  it  would  have  been  our  horses  in  that  hole,  for  it 
was  right  on  the  main  roadway  where  the  bottom  had  seemingly 
dropped  out. 

The  old  Meacham  station  was  noted  for  its  good  living, 
and  we  had  an  elegant  dinner  to  slightly  compensate  us  for  the 
weary  day  on  the  muddy,  rocky  road.  The  Meacham  House  in 
later  years,  after  the  railroad  was  finished  through  on  that  route, 
was  kept  in  the  same  good  way  by  dear  old  Mother  Munra  with 
her  white  curls  and  smiling  face.  She  always  had  a  way  of 
making  every  one  feel  that  the  meal  was  prepared  especially  for 
him,  and  her  dear  sweet  face  will  long  be  remembered  by  the 
travelling  legion. 

At  Walla  Walla  we  were  taken  to  the  Stine  House,  and  climbed 
down  stiff  and  sore  from  the  jolting  old  wagon,  while  again  some 
one  gave  the  old  blankets  a  stiff  kick  as  they  lumbered  up  the 
sidewalk  and  impeded  our  passage.  It  was  hard  to  avoid  the 
curious  crowd  in  our  haste  to  a  quiet  comer  for  a  restful  metamor- 
phose from  a  bedraggled  vagabond  to  a  groomed  and  scoured 
individual  of  respectability. 

"The  Stine  House,  A.  Small,  Proprietor,"  was  the  heading 


4B4        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


on  the  hotel  stationery  and  he  was  a  proprietor  worthy  of  his 
name.    A.  Small,  Proprietor,  and  some  other  smallnesses  of  that 

house  Avill  lurk  in  our  minds  as 
long  as  we  can  remember  any- 
thing. He  thought  a  head 
waiter  in  the  dining-room 
was  a  superfluity,  and  the 
waiters  therefore  did  as  they 
pleased,  singing  out  their 
orders  to  the  cook  before  they 
were  out  of  the  dining-room. 

Mrs.  Caldwell  ordered  eggs 
for  her  breakfast,  but  the 
waiter  did  not  bring  them 
when  he  brought  the  break- 
fast for  the  others.  She 
waited  for  them  until  the 
others  had  finished  the  meal, 
then  left  the  table.  We  were 
about  half  way  up  the  stairs, 
which,  by  the  way,  were  in  the 
dining-room,  when  the  waiter 
came  in  with  the  coveted  eggs ; 
as  he  saw  her  going  away  he 
yelled  out  in  a  full,  loud  voice: 
"  She  's  gone,  she  's  gone ;  she 's 
gone  without  her  eggs ! "  B  ut 
in  spite  of  the  meagre  com- 
forts of  the  house  and  A. 
Small,  Proprietor,  we  rested  a 
few  days  then  journeyed  on. 

An  eminent  European  trav- 
eller says  that  the  Rhine  com- 
pared with  the  Columbia  is 
but  a  rivulet  and  the  mount- 
ains along  the  Rhine  are  but  pigmies  compared  with  those  that 
loom  up  along  Columbia's  shores.  No  finer  or  grander  scenery 
can  be  found  than  along  that  glorious  Columbia  after  the  Snake 
has  poured  its  volume  into  the  sea-going  stream.  We  made  the 
two  portages  from  river  to  rail  and  rail  to  river  with  growing 


Nevada  Falls 


Again  to  the  Pacific 


485 


enthusiasm  for  we  had  a  phenomenal  day  for  the  trip  down  that 
great  waterway.  Mt.  Hood,  Mt.  St.  Helens,  and  Mt.  Adams 
stood  out  m  bold  relief  like  chiselled  marble  against  a  deep  blue 
sky.  It  was  a  clear 
day  such  as  was  al- 
most unknown  at  that 
season  of  the  year  and 
it  was  a  grand  reward 
for  all  the  trials  and 
tribulations  that  pre- 
ceded. 

The  sun  seemed 
bent  on  g  i  V  i  n  g  us  a 
good  time  as  we  made 
the  rounds  of  the 
Puget  Sound  villages 
again,  and  then  bent 
our  faces  toward  the 
Golden  Gate. 

Owe  first  steamer 
trip  was  made  on  the 
famous  old  California, 
but  this  time  it  was 
the  Oregon.  Pard  had 
seciu-ed  the  bridal 
stateroom  for  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Caldwell,  but 
had  begged  the  purser 
to  say  nothing  about 
them  as  newly  mar- 
ried on  account  of 
their  years.  Of  course 
such  a  request  only 
made  the  purser  curi- 
ous and  he  told  it  to  every  one  on  the  boat.  Our  good  friends 
therefore  received  many  extra  courtesies  for  which  they  could  not 
account,  and  we  did  not  enlighten  them.  They  were  the  cyno- 
sure of  all  eyes  when  Mr.  Caldwell  recovered  his  sea  legs  and  was 
able  to  promenade  the  decks.  We  had  first  to  wait  for  the  tide 
to  get  across  the  treacherous  Columbia  bar,  then  we  had  fog  and 


Inspiration  Point 


486         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


rain  and  storm,  and  a  tumultuous  rocking  of  the  ship  that  kept 
poor  Pard  confined  to  his  berth  until  we  swung  around  into  San 
Francisco  Bay,  then  with  Mr.  Caldwell  he  tottered  out  to  a  shel- 
tered corner  on  deck 
and  they  expressed 
their  sad  views  of  sea 
life  and  wondered 
why  they  were  so 
seasick  while  Mrs. 
Caldwell  and  I  had 
enjoyed  our  meals  all 
through  the  trip. 

One  day  I  was  in  a 
half  comatose  condi- 
tion in  my  deck  chair 
which  was  placed 
near  the  freight  shaft. 
Nearly  every  one  had 
gone  inside  for  the 
afternoon  hour  of 
rest,  but  for  me  the 
sweet  sea  air  was  too 
enticing  and  as  I 
watched  the  rough 
waves  following  each 
other  in  hypnotic  reg- 
ularity, there  came 
sounds  of  voices  from 
below  of  sailors  spend- 
ing an  idle  hour. 

One  of  them  was 
telling  about  an  an- 
them which  had  been 
sung  in  the  Mission 
Church  of  far-off 
Frisco,  that  h  e 
thought  was  mighty  fine.  When  in  the  midst  of  his  sentimental 
story  a  shipmate  called  out  and  said,  "I  say,  Pete,  what  's  a' 
hanthem?"  "What 's  the  matter  with  you?"  replied  Pete;  "don't 
you  know  what  a  hanthem  is?"     "Not  me,"  replied  the  ship- 


Our  coach  and  four  in  the  sheltering  monarch's 
heart 


Again  to  the  Pacific 


487 


mate.     "Well,  then,  I  '11  tell  you  so  you  '11  know  one  when  it 

floats  your  way.      If  I  was  to  say  to  you,  '  Here,  Jack,  give  me 

that  anchor  line,'  that 

would  be  no  hanthem, 

but  if  I  was  to  say, 

'Jack,     Jack,     Jack, 

give,     give,    give,    O 

give  me  that  anchor, 

give  me  that  anchor, 

Jack,   give    me    that 

anchor    line,    anchor 

line,   anchor  line,  ah 

men;  Jack  give   me 

that  anchor  line,  ah 

men,'  that  would  be  a 

hanthem." 

I  laughed  until  I 
cried  over  that  quaint 
yet   graphic   descrip- 


tion of  "a  hanthem'* 
and  after  that  the 
friends  often  gathered 
round  the  hatchway 
to  catch  something 
equally  good,  but  the 
heavy  seas  did  not  al- 
low many  leisure 
hours  for  the  Jack 
tars  on  that  trip. 

Mrs.  Caldwell  was 
always  industrious 
and  I  never  have 
known  her  to  sit  down 
without  some  work  in 
hand  to  do,  and  the 
rocking  steamer  did 
not  prevent  her  from  Yosemite  FaUs 

keeping  up  the  habit. 

On  the  last  stormy  day,  as  we  were  nearing  San  Francisco,  she 
merrily  prattled  her  thanks  to  the  stewardess  for  many  kind- 


488         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

nesses,  and  hoped  to  come  over  the  same  route  again  some  day 
with  her  children.  The  matron  looked  up  aghast  and  said: 
"Why,  do  you  expect  children  at  your  age,  we  heard  you  were 
just  married!"  "Just  married,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Caldwell, 
"why,  goodness  me,  I  *m  a  grandmother.  Who  said  we  were 
just  married?  "  Then  she  learned  why  they  had  been  so  favored 
on  the  stormy  voyage  and  that  we  had  played  the  little  joke  on 
them,  and  she  said,  "Well,  Stewardess,  that  is  a  good  joke,  but 
they  are  the  ones  just  married,  and  they  did  it  to  divert  at- 
tention from  themselves." 

In  San  Francisco  the  famous  old  Baldwin,  which  now  is  no 
more  than  a  memory,  was  grandly  luxurious  after  our  long 
journey  around  from  Denver  and  Salt  Lake,  thence  out  of  the 
circuit  of  even  common  comforts  until  we  swung  into  that  haven 
of  rest.  It  was  an  elysium  where  all  our  desires  were  gratified, 
and  we  felt  at  peace  with  all  the  world. 

We  had  entered  the  land  of  wires  and  telegrams  that  were  now 
hurr3dng  us  eastward,  but  not  yet  could  we  leave  the  Golden 
State.  The  stages  had  stopped  running  into  Yosemite  for  the 
season,  but  when  the  stage  company  learned  how  anxious  we 
were  to  go  into  the  valley  they  arranged  for  the  usual  relays  of 
horses  and  prepared  to  send  us  in  with  two  other  passengers. 
They  were  two  young  men  from  Germany;  one  of  them  was  the 
son  of  the  famous  Mumm  of  champagne  fame,  who  was  an  in- 
teresting associate  but  who  wanted  it  distinctly  understood  that 
he  was  not  a  wine  maker,  or  a  wine  merchant,  but  an  aspirant 
for  Parliament.  We  understood  what  he  meant  in  spite  of  his 
abrupt  way  of  saying  it.  His  father  had  been  given  honor,  he 
said,  in  his  home  country  because  of  the  excellence  of  his  wine  for 
so  many  years,  he  had  been  received  by  the  nobility,  and  his 
family  allowed  a  place  higher  than  the  caste  of  the  ordinary 
merchant  or  tradesman  who  was  not  a  recognized  member  of 
society.  In  France,  if  his  father  was  present  at  a  banquet  or  a 
party,  out  of  courtesy  to  him  Mumm's  champagne  would  not 
be  used,  for  it  would  be  a  reminder  of  his  trade  and  an  insult. 

We  left  San  Francisco  about  four  o'clock  one  afternoon,  and 
were  tucked  away  in  our  beds  at  Merced  at  midnight,  but  we 
were  up  and  off  on  the  stage  by  six  o'clock  the  next  morning 
for  Yosemite  Valley  in  very  fact.  It  was  a  delightful  drive  to 
Mariposa,  and  then  on  up  through  gloriously  wooded  mountains 


Again  to  the  Pacific 


489 


to  see  the  Yosemite  Falls  pouring  its  silvery  waters  over  a 
2580-foot  declivity,  breaking  it  into  clouds  of  iridescent  foam 
and  bewildering  one  with  its  immensity.  This  with  at  least  a 
dozen  other  falls  ranging  in  height  from  900  to  2500  feet  made  a 
cluster  of  marvels  that  all  the  world  should  see.  The  great 
snowy  peaks  clustered  closely  together  as  if  it  were  a  conclave 
for  holding  the  scenic  wonders  of  the  world  in  their  arms.  We 
even  climbed  up  on  foot  for  eight  miles  for  the  crowning  glory 
view  from  the  summit  of  a  heaven-kissed  peak,  and  when  we 
were  gathered  around  the  crackling  logs  of  our  evening  fire  we 
were  dumb  with  ad- 
miration and  fatigue, 
yet  marvelled  at  the 
great  and  wondrous 
creations  of  the  world. 
We  thought  noth- 
ing could  excite  such 
wonderment  as  the 
Yellowstone,  yet  here 
the  wonder  lives  again 
in  equal  magnitude. 
The  two  places  have 
electrifying  charms 
that  no  pen  or  brush 
can  paint.  The  two 
great  wonderlands 
are  wholly  unlike  and 

cannot  in  any  way  be  compared,  yet  if  one  can  see  but  one,  it 
should  be  the  Yellowstone  Park,  for  its  attractions  are  more 
unique  and  varied  although  in  detail  less  stupendous  and  abrupt. 
On  our  way  out  of  the  valley  a  Thanksgiving  dinner  was 
prepared  at  the  station  half  way  to  Mariposa,  and  it  was  indeed 
a  dinner  to  be  thankful  for.  We  spent  two  hours  at  the  station 
and  played  many  pranks  on  the  different  members  of  the  party. 
After  Mr.  Caldwell's  turn  as  a  subject,  Mrs.  Caldwell  ran  away; 
he  followed  and  found  her  on  the  stump  of  a  tree  quite  out  of  his 
reach.  Contrary  to  her  expectations  he  came  up  and  held  out 
both  his  hands  in  an  appeal  to  make  up,  and  call  a  truce,  but 
when  she  bent  down  to  take  his  hands  to  seal  the  compact,  quick 
as  a  flash  he  twisted  her  arms  around  his  neck  and  drew  her  off 


They  were  charming  companions  under  all 
circimistances 


490        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  stump  on  to  his  back,  and  walked  into  camp  with  her  in  that 
undignified  position. 

From  Mariposa  we  visited  the  Big  Trees  and  en  route  drove 
our  six-horse  coach  into  one  of  the  largest.  The  entire  stage 
and  the  six  horses  were  under  cover  within  its  trunk  while  we 
enjoyed  our  noonday  meal.  Another  forest  monarch  was  burned 
out  on  the  inside,  but  the  bark  was  only  burned  off  on  one  side 
and  the  hollow  tree  was  used  as  a  corral  for  seventeen  horses. 


With  the  Caldwells  in  a  San  Diego  tea  garden  thirty  years  later 


From  Yosemite  we  made  a  hurried  trip  to  Los  Angeles  and 
Riverside,  staging  it  six  miles  from  San  Bernardino,  the  nearest 
rail  station,  to  Riverside. 

It  was  the  love  of  outdoor  life,  as  much  as  for  business 
reasons,  that  induced  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Caldwell  to  endure  the  long 
overland  trip  with  all  its  hardships  and  deprivations  from 
Pocatello  to  Portland,  thence  the  additional  California  trip,  but 
they  were  charming  companions  under  all  circumstances.  There 
are  but  few  people  who  can  leave  a  home  where  every  luxury  is 
afforded  and  enjoyed  and  undergo  such  a  multitude  of  annoying 


Again  to  the  Pacific  491 

inconveniences  and  remain  as  dear  and  lovable  iinto  the  end, 
and  even  unto  the  present  day. 

A  few  years  later  we  travelled  over  the  same  ground  together 
in  the  Northwest  in  a  luxurious  private  car,  and  after  nearly 
thirty  years  we  have  again  joined  hands  in  California.  We  still 
found  them  the  same  comrades  as  in  the  first  years  of  our  associa- 
tion, and  we  lived  over  again  and  again  many  episodes  of  that 
pioneer  journey. 

Mr.  Caldwell  has  had  a  life  full  of  adventure,  pathos,  and 
romance  such  as  few  men  can  narrate.  From  participation  in  the 
famous  battle  of  Chapultepec  in  Mexico  to  the  control  and 
management  of  five  thousand  freight  teams  and  as  many  men  on 
the  great  highway  between  the  Missouri  River  and  Salt  Lake 
City  in  ante-railway  days,  and  from  that  on  up  to  a  seat  in  the 
United  States  Senate  has  been  his  lot  to  experience  and  enjoy. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

CITY  BUILDING— CALDWELL,  AND  OTHER  TOWNS  ON  THE 

FRONTIER 


HE  interest  and  excite- 
ment attending  the  early 
building  of  towns  and 
cities  is  often  most  intense. 
Romance  and  adventure 
of  pioneers  is  not  confined 
to  those  who  seek  in  the 
ground.  Mountains  and 
valleys  have  unwritten 
histories  other  than  that 
relating  to  the  use  of  pick  and  shovel  for  precious  metals,  and 
many  an  interesting  story  of  hazardous  adventures  in  other 
occupations  and  in  town  building  will  become  as  legends  handed 
down  through  generations  and  held  as  sacred  as  the  stories  of 
early  Pilgrim  landings. 

In  the  Boise  valley  it  was  said  that  the  "left  wing  of  Price's 
army"  had  hidden  itself  in  the  sage-brush,  and  through  narrow- 
mindedness  and  bigotry  the  members  of  the  wing  tried  ever  to 
get  in  the  way  of  civilization.  It  took  years  of  schooling  with 
liberal-minded  people  to  get  them  out  of  the  cocoon  environment 
in  which  they  hibernated.  We  had  met  a  part  of  this  same  "left 
wing"  in  Montana  and  thus  were  somewhat  prepared  for  the 
stubbornness  of  their  resistance  to  civilization. 

To  plump  one's  self  down  in  an  alkali  flat,  with  railroad  sur- 
vey stakes  for  company,  and  expect  an  Aladdin's  lamp  to  throw 
pictures  of  a  thriving  city,  invites  feelings  of  sobbing  and  laugh- 
ter so  closely  allied  that  one  can  hardly  tell  which  is  which,  or 
which  will  dominate.  It  means  success  or  failure  and  only  laugh- 
ter must  go  echoing  through  the  air,  to  be  caught  up  and  passed 
along  the  road  of  success  to  cheer  and  encourage  all  who  hear 

492 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns      493 

it.  The  sobbing  must  be  hidden  so  deep  that  one's  own  sweet- 
heart will  not  know  it  is  there.  Work  and  courage  are  the 
essential  attributes  for  the  pioneer. 

A  mining  town  may  develop  between  two  days,  with  all 
stores,  saloons,  dance  halls,  hotels,  and  newspapers  in  full  blast, 
but  it  may  as  quickly  fold  its  tents  and  boards  and  move  on  to 
newer  fields.  Along  the  civilizing  railroad  in  a  farming  country 
a  town's  growth  may  be  exasperatingly  slow,  but  it  will  be  there 
for  all  time,  a  monument,  good  or  bad,  for  him  who  builds. 

Caldwell,  some  thirty  miles  west  of  Boise  City,  in  Idaho,  was 
a  town  for  all  time,  yet  it  was  a  child  of  most  disheartening  youth. 
It  is  sometimes  necessary  to  have  the  preliminary  steps  of  a 
location  taken  in  absolute  secrecy.  Buying  the  land  and  securing 
titles  is  serious,  but  often  a  source  of  amusement  when  everything 
must  be  sub  rosa.  You  may  meet  yoiu*  best  friend  in  the  guise 
of  a  ranchman  who  has  just  bought  old  Jenkins's  ranch,  but  you 
would  not  dare  to  smile  or  wink  an  eye  if  a  third  party  were 
present  for  fear  of  exciting  suspicions  of  the  deep-laid  plot. 
Knowing  he  was  followed  and  watched  at  every  turn  by  Boise 
people,  who,  if  they  could  not  thwart  him,  were  determined  to 
profit  by  his  enterprise,  Pard  quietly  bought  the  extensive 
Haskell  ranch,  on  the  north  side  of  the  river.  The  Haskell  pur- 
chase leaked  out  with  proper  embellishments  at  the  psychologi- 
cal moment,  whereupon  thousands  of  available  acres  around  it 
were  eagerly  gobbled  up  by  the  Boise  speculators  without  much 
regard  to  price.  Some  of  them  were  even  generously  permitted 
to  take  over  most  of  the  Haskell  ranch  while  the  boom  was  on, 
at  a  handsome  advance,  before  it  was  discovered  that  Caldwell's 
real  location  had  meantime  been  acquired  on  the  south  side  of 
the  river  several  miles  away. 

Boiseites  were  determined  to  have  the  main  line  of  the  Oregon 
Short  Line  Railway  go  through  their  town.  Pioneers  there  had 
been  waiting  for  many  years  for  such  a  happy  tie  to  connect  them 
with  the  outside  world,  and  they  watched  with  jealous  care  any 
movement  to  outwit  them.  A  survey  for  the  road  was  made 
through  the  town,  but  it  was  found  to  be  wholly  unpracticable  to 
digress  so  far  from  easier  grades  and  a  straight  line  across  the 
territory. 

As  envoy  plenipotentiary  Pard  was  to  locate  the  new  town 
at  a  spot  some  thirty  miles  west  of  Boise,  where  the  final  siu-vey 


494        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

had  been  made  to  cross  Boise  river,  after  a  most  painstaking 
effort  to  locate  the  best  route.  In  the  spring  of  1882,  when  the 
whole  air  was  full  of  budding  life  and  birds  were  twittering  in 
their  new-made  nests,  we  were  out  early  one  morning  ostensibly 
to  make  a  trip  to  one  of  the  mining  camps  north  of  Boise.  A  well- 
filled  hamper  and  various  implements  and  blankets  were  stored 
conveniently  away,  as  people  were  ever  wont  to  prepare  for  emer- 
gencies when  travelling  a  sparsely  settled  frontier  highway.   When 


"The  gray  sage-brush  and  greasewood  bushes  were  the  only  signs  of 

vegetation  " 

well  out  of  town  we  circled  about  like  a  bird  of  prey  until  we 
skirted  the  town  and  headed  west  instead  of  north,  with  the 
objective  point  of  the  new  townsite  in  the  line  of  the  horizon. 
It  consumed  the  whole  day  to  find  the  engineers'  signs  and  follow 
them  sufficiently  to  judge  the  best  point  of  vantage  to  drive  the 
first  village  stake. 

What  a  desert  it  was  at  that  point !  The  ground  was  as  white 
with  alkali  as  the  winter  robe  of  the  mountain  tops.  The  gray 
sage-brush  and  greasewood  bushes  were  the  only  signs  of  vege- 
tation excepting  a  thin  fringe  of  cottonwoods  and  willows  along 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns      495 

the  river  within  the  far  scope  of  vision.  Not  a  tree  nor  a  sign 
of  habitation  on  the  townsite,  only  the  white,  desolate  glare  and 
clouds  of  choking,  biting  dust  that  consumed  the  very  flesh.  It 
seemed  like  a  place  deserted  by  God  himself,  and  not  intended 
for  man  to  meddle  with. 

We  made  a  miserable  camp  in  the  tall  sage-brush.  The 
horses  were  turned  about  and  hitched  behind  the  wagon  and 
munched  contentedly  their  noonday  oats.  It  was  the  only  sound 
in  that  great  space,  but  it  was  a  relief  to  have  the  silence  broken 
even  ever  so  little. 

Pard  went  on  an  exploring  expedition  of  his  own,  getting  the 
different  elevations,  curves,  and  points  of  vantage,  if  there  were 
any,  with  the  camp  as  a  home  station. 

I  settled  back  in  the  wagon  seat  to  lose  myself  in  the  pages 
of  a  book,  but  the  vast  solitude  and  desolation  held  me  in  a  medi- 
tative trance.  What  a  forbidding  place  to  build  a  home;  my 
face  was  already  sore  from  the  poison  ash,  and  my  heart  sank 
in  a  flash  of  homesickness  as  I  drew  out  the  plans  in  a  great  blue- 
print of  the  town  "to  be."  There  was  pictured  so  enticingly 
the  commercial  streets,  the  residence  locations,  the  parks,  the 
places  for  churches  and  schools,  the  railroad  and  its  switches, 
the  depot  and  hotel,  the  wagon  roads  leading  in  various  directions, 
and  even  the  shade  trees  were  there,  and  it  all  looked  so  complete 
that  I  fairly  strained  my  ears  to  hear  the  toot  of  the  engine  and  the 
ringing  of  bells.  A  lift  of  the  eyelids  and  the  dream  vanished,  leav- 
ing a  wide  chasm  between  the  dream  city  on  paper  and  the  reality. 

Will  Visscher,  a  widely  known  western  man,  used  to  say  in 
his  dialect  lecture  that  : 

"  Dar  whar  de  hen  scratch, 
Dar  whar  you  fine  de  wurm 
Providen'  no  previous  hen 
Ha'  scratched  dar  afore." 

Surely  this  must  be  the  spot  for  the  big  worm,  for  no  one  had 
ever  scratched  here  "afore."  But  alack!  and  alas!  it  required 
years  of  hard  scratching  to  develop  even  worms  in  that  soil. 

The  vast  solitude  was  broken  again  by  Pard's  cheery  voice 
saying,  "Well,  this  is  the  spot;  here  is  to  be  the  future  great. 
Dar  whar  we  stake  de  horse,  dar  whar  we  find  de  home."  I 
had  been  a  pretty  faithful  trailer  through  the  vast  unknown  West, 


496        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

following  close  beside  my  gallant  knight  in  all  his  pioneer  work, 
but  here  seemed  the  limit,  and  all  my  courage  would  have  taken 
flight  had  not  the  sudden  thought  come  to  me  that  not  yet  had 
the  hour  come  to  live  there.  In  later  years,  when  life  really  began 
in  the  growing  metropolis,  my  heart  went  out  in  sympathy  to 
many  a  desolate  heart  that  had  come  there  from  green  fields  and 
sheltering  trees,  to  this  new  aspirant  for  municipal  recognition. 
Memory  of  the  first  hour  in  that  desert  spot  will  never  be  seared 
by  time  or  condition. 

Events  followed  each  other  rapidly  when  once  the  location 


Copyrighted  by  Bowman,  Pendleton,  Oregon. 

Bucking  Broncho 

was  decided  and  duly  recorded.  Boise  business  men  held  them- 
selves angrily  aloof  from  the  new  town  named  in  honor  of  Senator 
Caldwell.  They  threatened  vengeance  on  every  one  who  had 
dared  to  favor  the  opposition  city,  and  lynchings  for  the  leaders 
were  but  mild  amusements  of  the  programme  they  threatened  to 
execute.  It  was  not  the  rougher  element  of  the  capital  city  that 
made  such  dire  threats,  but  men  who  would  not  now  like  to  see 
their  names  attached  to  expressions  of  such  wrathful  vengeance. 
They  could  not  be  blamed  altogether,  for  they  had  spent  the 
best  years  of  their  lives  in  building  up  their  remote  city,  hoping 
and  waiting  for  the  steam  engines  on  glittering  rails.  But  trans- 
continental railroads  cannot  afford  to  go  out  of  a  direct  course 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns      497 

when  it  means  heavy  grades  and  wide  deviation  from  desired  lines. 
My  good  Pard  was  at  the  top  of  the  page  on  Boise's  black  list, 
and  many  a  friend  warned  him  in  later  days  to  keep  away  from 
that  city,  else  he  would  surely  meet  with  personal  harm. 

One  day  in  the  fall  of  '83  Jack  Tebbits,  a  Union  Pacific  freight 
officer,  sat  busily  engaged  in  writing  in  the  Overland  Hotel  office 
in  Boise.  He  was  a  nephew  of  the  then  Union  Pacific  president, 
Charles  Francis  Adams,  and  a  wonderfully  clever  and  capable 
official. 

He  dashed  off  several  letters,  unmindful  of  the  crowd  gather- 
ing in  the  office  until  he  heard  the  name  of  Strahorn  mentioned, 
and  in  the  conversation  that  followed  his  blood  almost  boiled  in 
his  veins.  Such  dastardly  plotting  was  worthy  of  only  the  blackest 
hearted  cowards.  He  was  hesitating  whether  to  turn  and  shame 
the  men  in  their  cowardly  talk  or  go  at  once  with  the  warning  to 
Strahorn,  who  was  as  a  brother  to  him.  He  put  his  hand  on 
the  hilt  of  his  revolver  but  endeavored  to  cool  his  anger  before 
acting  too  hastily.  At  that  moment  a  team  drove  up  in  front 
of  the  office  window  with  Mr.  Strahorn  in  the  carriage  riding 
straight  into  the  jaws  of  death.  Mr.  Tebbits  was  too  horrified 
to  speak,  and  like  a  flash  he  resolved  to  remain  quiet  until  the 
mob  seized  Mr.  Strahorn,  when  he  would  jump  to  his  assistance. 
It  fairly  took  his  breath  away  to  see  Mr.  Strahorn  step  into  the 
office  with  his  usual  cheery  "Good  morning,  gentlemen,"  and 
then  to  see  every  last  one  of  the  bunch  get  up  and  shake  hands 
with  him  in  the  friendliest  manner  possible.  Mr.  Tebbits's  head 
dropped  on  the  table  with  such  a  thud  that  every  one  turned 
at  the  noise  and  thought  that  he  had  fainted  or  dropped  dead. 
He  ever  afterward  declared  that  he  did  not  faint,  but  that  his 
heart  just  stopped  beating.  Mr.  Strahorn  was  often  warned 
of  similar  conversations,  but  it  never  kept  him  from  going  to 
the  town  whenever  he  had  business  there. 

A  few  months  after  this  episode  I  was  in  Denver  when  a  Union 
Pacific  officious  official  returned  from  Boise,  en  route  to  Omaha. 
He  stopped  off  at  Denver  on  purpose  to  tell  me  that  Pard  was 
going  to  be  hung  by  Boise  men,  and  if  I  had  any  influence  over 
him  to  get  him  out  of  Idaho  at  once.  The  first  train  out  of 
Denver  was  not  soon  enough  for  me,  so  a  special  engine  canied 
me  to  Cheyenne  to  catch  the  first  west  bound  train. 

I  kept  the  wires  hot  with  messages  while  the  trains  seemed 
32 


49^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

only  to  crawl.  Arriving  at  Caldwell  I  learned  that  he  was  that 
day  in  Boise.  I  set  out  at  once  to  drive  that  thirty  miles  as 
fast  as  horses  could  take  me  there,  and  I  was  mad  with  joy  to 
find  him  alive  at  the  end  of  my  journey,  and  I  soon  explained 
why  I  had  so  surprised  him  and  was  myself  so  nearly  collapsed. 
He  developed  an  enmity  for  that  official  that  has  never  waned  in 
the  thirty  years  that  have  intervened.  I  never  tried  to  have 
him  leave  his  post  of  duty ;  he  said  those  people  talked  a  lot  for 
they  were  angry  and  disappointed,  but  they  did  not  scare  him 
for  one  minute.  He  knew  the  men  well  and  he  understood  their 
bitterness  of  feeling  without  further  resentment  than  to  go  on 
unconcernedly  with  his  own  affairs  as  he  had  begun.  The  town 
of  Caldwell  rose  from  the  mysterious  ash  of  the  valley,  and  her 
beckoning  ultimately  brought  many  a  Boiseite  to  open  business 
doors  within  her  precincts. 

The  first  enterprise  was  a  pile  of  lumber,  in  an  impromptu 
lumber  yard,  which  Pard  had  shipped  there  for  building  purposes, 
and  later  he  was  associated  for  several  years  with  a  man  by  the 
name  of  Wilder  until  the  partner  vanished  leaving  only  the 
debts  of  the  company  for  Pard. 

Theo.  Danielson  desired  to  build  a  general  merchandise  store, 
but  he  first  wanted  to  see  a  siding  of  rails  to  make  sure  that  trains 
would  stop  there  when  once  the  schedule  was  established.  He 
and  Pard  sat  down  on  a  lumber  pile  to  talk  the  matter  over, 
for  Theo.  wanted  more  evidence  that  a  town  would  be  built.  Its 
fate  was  hanging  on  that  siding  and  just  when  Pard  declared 
the  men  would  be  at  work  on  it  inside  of  twenty-four  hours 
the  shrill  shriek  of  an  engine  rent  the  air  and  it  was  bringing  a 
work-train  and  crew  for  that  siding.  From  that  hour  Pard  was 
the  true  prophet  and  his  word  was  as  law  and  gospel  on  Alkali 
Flat. 

Before  the  Danielson  building  was  completed  Montie  B. 
Gwinn,  of  Boise,  had  a  general  merchandise  tent  store,  and  he 
and  his  wife  kept  house  in  the  back  of  it.  Then  came  Fahy  Bros. 
with  a  saloon.  Bramble  and  Dickinson  with  groceries.  Coffin  Bros., 
hardware.  Little  and  Blatchley,  druggists,  Howard  Sebree,  the 
banker,  Oakes  Bros.,  and  many  others  who  responded  to  the 
call  of  commerce  followed  closely  on  the  trail. 

For  months  we  lived  over  the  office  and  took  our  meals  in  a 
freight  car,  which  was  the  swell  boarding-house  of  the  town. 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns      499 


Hugh  Wallace,  since  son-in-law  of  the  late  Chief  Justice  Fuller  of 
the  Supreme  Bench,  was  the  secretary  of  the  Land  Company, 
and  his  aversion  to  work  was  as  heretofore  noted.  There  was 
no  way  to  the  street  except  through  the  office,  and  I  was  often 
annoyed  beyond  endurance  at  the  condition  of  the  office  when  he 


'V    '.^' 

m 

K^ifll 

1^ 

t 

^ 

•^^-..*. 

*  .^ 

The  holdup  at  American  Falls 

was  alone.  At  one  time  when  Mr.  Strahorn  was  away  with 
the  man  who  usually  cared  for  the  office,  I  asked  Mr.  Wallace 
as  I  passed  through  to  go  out  to  dinner  to  sweep  the  office  as  it 
was  utterly  disreputable.  He  haughtily  raised  his  head  and 
said:  "As  secretary  of  this  Land  Company  I  positively  decline 
to  sweep  this  office."  Then  I  said,  "When  I  return,  I,  as 
wife  of  the  vice-president  and  general  manager  of  the  company, 
will  do  it  myself. "  I  never  knew  whether  he  did  it  or  not,  but  it 
was  done  when  I  went  back. 

When  the  railroad  company  was  ready  to  send  trains  through 
from  Pocatello  to  Payette,  we  escorted  an  excursion  party  of  one 
hundred  from  Ogden  to  the  land  of  promise,  and  the  party  was 


500         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

accompanied  by  the  Ogden  Cornet  Band.  All  went  merrily 
until  the  train  had  been  switched  off  at  Pocatello  to  the  new  line 
westward  bound.  We  had  a  hint  that  the  train  was  to  be  held 
up  at  American  Falls  and  the  engineer  was  given  orders  not  to 
stop  there,  but  to  hurry  on  through.  When  we  neared  the  Falls 
station  the  man  at  the  throttle  saw  the  signal  flying  to  stop  the 
train,  and,  not  knowing  what  it  meant,  he  slowed  down  to  the 
station. 

Scarcely  had  he  thrust  his  head  out  before  half  a  dozen  guns 
were  levelled  on  him  and  he  and  the  fireman  were  forced  from 
the  cab  and  bound.  The  telegraph  operator  had  refused  to  flag 
the  train,  and  he  was  tied  with  a  rope  to  a  telegraph  pole  with  a 
gag  in  his  mouth,  while  others  of  the  gang  had  fastened  up  the 
signal  which  no  engineer  dare  disobey.  Pard  had  given  orders 
to  the  band  boys  to  keep  their  seats  in  the  car,  but  two  of  their 
number  came  back  with  quaking  knees  and  said:  "Them  hold- 
up fellers  will  kill  us  all  if  we  don't  go  out  and  play, "  and  added, 
"What '11  we  do?"  Pard  said,  "Well,  I  think  you  better  go 
out,  but  mind  you  hold  your  tempers  for  that  is  a  bad  lot 
outside." 

There  were  nearly  a  hundred  cowboys  who  had  come  from 
seventy  and  eighty  miles  back  on  the  ranges  and  they  were 
heavily  armed,  bent  on  mischief  and  hearing  music.  We  were 
in  abject  fear  lest  they  march  us  all  out  to  dance  to  the  music 
or  something  worse. 

A  merchant  from  Wood  River  looked  over  the  crowd  and  said 
he  knew  their  leader,  but  there  was  not  money  enough  in  all  Idaho 
to  tempt  him  to  speak  to  the  fellow  if  he  was  drunk.  The  band 
boys  lined  up  on  the  platform  and  tried  to  render  a  few  choice 
selections,  but  alas!  if  they  could  have  heard  themselves  play, 
I  think  they  had  about  as  soon  die  as  listen. 

The  leader  of  the  cowboys  was  a  fugitive  from  justice  and 
was  a  terror  when  in  his  cups.  He  had  been  married  about  six 
weeks  before  and  "the  boys"  gave  a  big  dance  in  honor  of  the 
occasion.  In  treating  his  many  friends  he  got  wildly  reckless 
and  everybody  knew  there  was  trouble  brewing.  One  rather 
modest  fellow  who  had  recently  joined  the  cowboy  ranks,  was 
not  a  dancer  and  deeming  it  an  insult  to  the  bride  not  to  dance 
with  her,  the  newly  made  husband  began  shooting  at  the  young 
fellow's  feet  to  make  him  dance  and  the  only  safety  lay  in  being 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns       501 

able  to  pick  up  first  one  foot  and  then  the  other  in  rapid  succession 
as  the  bullets  hit  the  floor  under  them.  The  wife  sent  an  emis- 
sary to  plead  with  her  husband  to  stop  shooting  for  her  sake. 
The  maddened  brain  would  brook  no  interferences,  and  with  an 
oath  he  turned  and  shot  the  intruder  through  the  heart,  saying, 
"Oh,  take  that  for  luck."  A  large  reward  for  his  arrest  was 
placarded  all  over  the  country,  yet  he  had  dared  to  come  from 


They  played  better  than  Utah's  band  at  American  Falls" 


his  hiding  and  halt  this  train,  feeling  safety  in  the  number  of 
his  followers. 

Mr.  Schilling  watched  him  through  the  car  window  for  some 
time  and  made  up  his  mind  that  the  man  was  really  sober,  and 
said  he  would  make  the  effort  to  speak  to  him,  although  he  realized 
the  danger  in  doing  so.  He  went  outside  and  waited  for  the 
outlaw  to  see  him  first  and  with  a  friendly  nod  we  saw  them  enter 
into  a  conversation,  and  saw  also  with  grim  and  joyous  satis- 
faction that  the  renegade  was  a  willing  listener.  He  was  told 
that  we  had  U.  S.  mail  aboard,  and  that  some  one  else  on  board 
might  know  him  and  report  his  whereabouts,  etc.  The  seed 
dropped  in  good  ground,  and  with  a  loud  yell  the  desperado 
turned  to  the  band  and  said,  "Now,  give  us  another  tune  and 
give  us  your  best,  then  go  to  hell. "     The  meaning  was  somewhat 


502         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

ambiguous,  but  with  quivering  breath  and  trembling  notes  they 
piped  out  another  tune  as  best  they  could,  and  then  ran  for  their 
car.  The  engineer  and  fireman  were  loosened  from  their  bindings 
and  the  throttle  of  the  engine  was  thrown  open  in  a  hurry.  As 
the  train  started  there  was  a  perfect  fusillade  of  bullets  flying 
in  the  air,  and  many  passengers  curled  down  to  the  floor  between 
the  seats  (and  I  was  one  of  them) ,  for  we  expected  the  attacking 
party  to  fire  right  into  the  cars,  but  we  sped  safely  away  without 
a  tragedy. 

I  do  not  mean  to  infer  that  all  cowboys  are  outlaws  or  rene- 
gades from  justice,  but  they  did  have  a  lot  of  that  kind  in  those 
days  in  southern  Idaho. 

Aside  from  the  holdup  for  music  only,  there  was  an  amusing 
incident  at  the  new  junction  town  of  Shoshone.  The  train  halted 
for  some  additions  to  the  party,  and  the  enterprising  citizens  had 
a  band  playing.  The  musicians  each  had  a  miner's  torch  in  his 
hat  and  one  steadied  a  big  banner  reading:  "Please  don't  shoot. 
Only  organized  to-day  for  this  special  occasion.  Doing  the  best 
we  can."  We  encouraged  their  efforts  by  telling  them  they 
played  much  better  than  Utah's  crack  band  did  when  they  were 
lined  up  at  American  Falls. 

It  was  a  gala  day  for  the  Boise  valley  people  who  gathered  to 
see  the  first  passenger  train  go  through  the  country,  and  there 
were  many  who  that  day  saw  a  train  for  the  first  time  in  their 
lives.  Teams  were  tied  all  about  the  town  in  the  sage-brush,  and 
as  the  great  engine  came  puffing  into  town  the  horses  broke 
loose  and  made  a  mad  rush  for  the  country.  Pandemonium 
reigned  and  teams  and  saddle  horses  left  their  owners  to  get 
home  as  best  they  could. 

In  the  afternoon  a  free  excursion  was  extended  to  the  end  of 
the  track,  which  was  near  Payette.  The  number  swelled  to  such 
magnitude  that  all  kinds  of  cars  were  brought  into  use.  Box 
cars,  fiat  cars,  and  a  caboose,  besides  the  coaches  of  the  excursion 
train  were  packed  to  the  limit,  and  no  employe  of  the  road  who 
was  with  that  train  will  ever  forget  the  anxiety  and  care  of  that 
day.  It  was  a  special  dispensation  of  Providence  that  no  one  was 
killed,  for  never  was  there  more  ignorant  capering  from  car  to  car 
than  by  those  people  who  could  not  be  made  to  realize  their  liabil- 
ity to  death  by  a  single  false  step.  With  many  it  was  the  first 
train  they  had  ever  seen  and  the  joy  of  it  was  like  wine  to  them. 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns       503 


The  train  could  not  cross  the  Payette  River  as  the  bridge  was 
not  completed,  but  many  of  the  people  crawled  across  it  on  the 
planks  laid  from  stringer  to  stringer.  One  James  Agnew,  who 
had  been  one  of  the  drivers  on  that  memorable  trip  from  Camp 
Hell  to  Hailey,  fell  into  the  swiftly  running  stream.  He  wore  a 
long  ulster  that  spread  like  a  parachute  when  he  struck  the  water 
which  was  full  of  floating  ice.  He  was  "spiritously"  happy 
and  hampered,  and  when  he  was  pulled  out  he  was  a  wetter, 
wiser,  and  soberer  man,  with  his  vanity  left  in  the  stream. 

The  first  Fourth  of  July  was  another  day  that  will  ever  live 
in  the  history  of  Caldwell.     The  beaux  and  belles  from  all  the 


"  Teams  and  saddle  horses  left  their  owners  to  get  home  as  best 
they  could" 

country  round  were  there.  Some  of  the  girls  who  were  passing 
from  their  teens,  tall,  lithe,  and  willowy,  wore  long  sleeved,  high 
necked  aprons  as  long  as  their  dresses;  merry  eyes  peeped  from 
under  sunbonnets  of  various  shapes  and  sizes,  and  the  bit  of  rib- 
bon as  a  belt,  a  sash,  or  bow  for  the  hair  was  duplicated  in  the 
hat  band  of  the  cavalier,  who  had  his  trousers  tucked  in  his  boot 
tops.  Swinging  clasped  hands  the  lovers  strolled  down  the 
street,  oblivious  of  all  else  but  their  own  infatuation,  eating  cakes 
and  popcorn,  and  looking  at  all  things  new  with  wide  open  eyes. 
The  day  ended  with  a  ball  in  the  schoolhouse,  and  Pard  and  I 
were  in  duty  bound  to  be  there.  Inside  and  out  the  crowd  was 
dense  and  noisy.  Pard  was  not  a  terpsichorean  artist,  so  he 
could  n't  have  a  dance  with  me,  but  Jack  Wells,  the  sheriff,  came 
along  for  the  favor  which  I  gladly  gave.  Jack  had  been  a  loyal 
friend  to  Pard  in  checking  the  wrath  of  some  of  the  old  settlers 
against  the  new  towns  of  Idaho.     He  was  a  powerfxilly  built 


504         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

man,  tall,  broad  shouldered,  with  an  unflinching  eye,  and  a  shot 
that  never  failed.  He  was  always  ready  for  business,  and  now 
above  the  din  of  the  crowd  I  could  hear  the  clank,  clank  of  his 
spurs  on  the  schoolroom  floor,  his  heavy  cartridge  belt  was  full 
of  gleaming  bullets,  and  a  large  navy  revolver  was  suspended  on 
each  side  within  easy  touch  of  his  hand,  while  just  under  his  coat 
I  saw  the  handle  of  an  ugly  knife. 

As  I  took  his  arm  he  made  a  way  open  to  the  head  of  the  room 
where  we  took  our  places.  The  musicians  were  sawing  their 
fiddles  with  a  swaying  motion,  and  tapping  the  time  with  their 
heels;  the  caller  gave  the  stentorian  call  to  "Saloot  yer  partners" 
that  might  have  been  heard  for  a  mile  in  the  clear  air  of  the 
desert.  The  set  for  the  square  dance  with  its  "a  la  main  left, 
ladies  change,  swing  on  the  corner,  and  grand  right  and  left,  ladies 
to  the  right,  and  so  on  round"  was  all  done  in  a  space  about  six 
feet  square.  When  it  was  finished  Jack  said,  "I  see  your  'man* 
over  by  the  door  and  I  will  take  you  there";  he  put  one  arm 
around  my  waist  and  with  the  other  he  waved  a  command  to 
clear  the  way  that  meant  no  gainsaying,  and  he  fairly  carried 
me  to  the  door  and  out  of  it. 

But  with  all  of  the  crudeness,  Caldwell  was  never  a  bad  or  a 
boisterous  town,  and  those  same  youths  and  maidens  who  danced 
in  joy  and  patriotism  after  eating  their  sweets  of  the  day  have 
become  the  very  bone  and  sinew  of  that  State.  They  were  quick 
to  see  their  lack  of  learning,  and  set  to  with  a  will  to  learn  and  be 
of  the  best  in  culture  and  refinement  and  education.  They  have 
made  such  rapid  strides  that  most  of  those  selfsame  celebrators 
are  now  occupying  positions  of  the  highest  honor  and  trust. 

Swain  Beatty,  the  village  barber,  was  made  the  first  justice 
of  the  peace,  and  he  had  some  queer  experiences.  When  the 
first  couple  presented  themselves  to  be  married,  he  was  at  his 
wits'  end  to  know  how  to  perform  the  ceremony.  He  called 
P.  A.  Devers  to  be  a  witness  with  Mrs.  Beatty.  He  had  never 
read  the  marriage  service,  nor  heard  it,  except  when  he  was  him- 
self married.  There  was  no  Bible  in  the  house,  and  when  pretend- 
ing to  be  looking  for  one  in  the  presence  of  the  waiting  applicants, 
Mrs.  Beatty  came  in  with  a  grave  and  dignified  face  and  said 
she  had  found  it,  and  handed  him  her  cook  book.  The  judge 
opened  it  with  due  dignity  and  went  on  with  the  union  of  hearts 
and  hands,  and  ultimately  pronounced  them  man  and  wife ;  then 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns       505 

said  he  would  read  the  prayer  in  silence  instead  of  aloud  as  was 
the  usual  custom.  I  was  never  able  to  leam  definitely  whether 
the  silent  prayer  was  for  mince  pies  or  doughnuts,  but  we  never 
ceased  comments  on  the  cook-book  marriage. 

There  is  charm  in  building  up  a  town  that  one  cannot  put 
into  song,  for  there  would  be  a  sad  accompaniment  of  disappoint- 
ments that  would  not  catch  the  public  favor,  but  a  pen  picture 
of  its  ultimate  success,  with  some  of  its  grotesque  features  and 
the  devious  ways  to  such  a  pinnacle,  will  always  be  hung  in  a 
strong  light. 

It  was  late  in  1883  that  Caldwell  came  into  prominence.  It 
was  then  the  operating  terminus  of  the  Oregon  Short  Line,  four 
hundred  and  sixty-seven  miles  from  Granger,  where  it  left  the 
main  Union  Pacific  line,  and  it  was  yet  two  hundred  and  four 
miles  from  Caldwell  to  Meacham,  in  Oregon,  which  was  the 
eastern  end  of  the  Oregon  Railway  and  Navigation  Company's 
railway,  which  gap  was  yet  to  be  filled  to  complete  rail  con- 
nection to  Portland. 

Caldwell  was  the  first  railroad  town  in  the  Territory  to  experi- 
ence anything  like  a  boom,  and  many  conditions  were  favorable 
to  a  good  town,  not  the  least  of  which  was  its  distributing  of  mer- 
chandise to  a  section  of  country  radiating  over  two  hundred  miles. 
All  stages  and  freight  teams  made  Caldwell  a  starting-point  and 
work  for  them  began  at  once. 

Irrigating  canals  were  built  by  the  Land  Company  at  great 
expense  over  vast  areas  of  land  and  it  was  the  largest  extent  of 
arable  land  found  between  Nebraska  and  Oregon.  Likewise  the 
company  built  roads  and  bridges,  fostered  schools  and  churches, 
and  took  the  initiative  in  everything  that  would  encourage  the 
development  of  the  country  and  growth  of  the  town.  The  first 
copy  of  the  Caldwell  Tribune  was  run  off  the  press  at  six  a.m., 
December  9,  1883,  by  W.  J.  Cuddy,  and  presented  to  me  as  a 
souvenir,  which  has  been  carefully  preserved. 

The  bitter  rivalry  between  Caldwell  and  Boise  continued, 
if  they  were  thirty  miles  apart.  Boise  offered  the  Union  Pacific 
company  sixty  thousand  dollars  toward  a  branch  road  to  be  run 
in  across  the  hill  from  Kuna,  a  station  fifteen  miles  east  of  Cald- 
well, but  it  was  met  with  the  reply  that  if  any  road  was  built  to 
Boise  it  would  necessarily  go  up  the  valley  from  Caldwell.  That 
incident  only  made  the  Boiseites  more  bitter.     The  feeling  grew 


5o6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


so  strong  against  Pard  that  they  left  no  stone  unturned  for  his 
derision,  and  in  an  indignation  meeting  and  street  parade  given 
because  of  being  left  off  the  railroad,  they  flaunted  a  huge  banner 
depicting  Pard  as  stepping  from  one  townsite  to  another  on 
the  line  of  the  railroad  and  pointing  to  still  another  town,  while 
a  smile  of  satisfaction  illuminated  his  features.  It  was  posi- 
tively so  funny,  yet  so  realistic,  that  it  helped  him  more  than  it 
hurt  him,  for  it  proved  the  success  of  his  steps  of  which  they 
were  so  much  afraid. 

It  was  nearly  five  years  before  Caldwell  put  on  cosmopolitan 


Boise  City  cartoons  Pard  for  starting  rival  towns 

airs,  with  its  Odd  Fellows  Hall,  its  five  churches,  its  Chamber  of 
Commerce,  Masonic  Building,  brick  hotels,  and  the  many  other 
things  that  combine  to  make  a  successful  town.  But  in  the 
meantime  things  were  being  done,  and  as  "out  of  nothing  God 
created  the  world, "  so  out  of  space  and  air  in  and  about  Caldwell 
people  and  houses  came  into  existence  from  somewhere,  and  they 
grew  and  multiplied  quite  in  a  different  way  from  a  Leadville 
or  a  Hailey. 

An  agricultural  town  has  not  the  vim,  rush,  and  whoop  of  a 
mining  town,  and  things  are  done  in  a  different  way.  Money 
comes  hard  and  goes  hard,  and  it  has  to  be  earned  several  times 
over  before  one  gets  it  in  his  hand.  There  never  was  a  more  for- 
bidding country  than  the  section  around  Caldwell  in  the  summer- 
time before  water  transformed  it  into  an  orchard  and  a  rose 
garden.     The  alkali  dust  was  ankle  deep,  the  wild  grass  looked 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns       507 

like  old  hay,  the  jack-rabbits  and  coyotes  cavorted  about  the 
'sage-brush,  and  desolation  was  rife. 

There  were  many  nights  when  our  house  was  surrounded  by 
coyotes  howling  as  only  a  coyote  can  howl,  every  one  making 
more  noise  than  three  or  four  dogs,  and  though  one  may  know 
they  are  not  dangerous  like  the  gray  wolf  of  the  woods,  he  can't 
help  feeling  a  dread  of  them  when  they  are  so  numerous. 

The  tongue  has  slain  its  thousands  as  well  as  the  sword,  and 
Caldwell  was  not  without  its  venomous  kind,  and  they  did  not 
all  belong  to  that  left  wing  of  Price's  army  either.  Among  others 
there  was  a  money  lender,  who  was  a  veritable  Merchant  of 
Venice.  He  despised  all  who  did  not  have  to  borrow  from  him, 
and  made  life  a  veritable  Hades  for  all  who  did.  He  kept  every 
one  who  owed  him  a  dollar  under  a  ban  of  surveillance  that  was 
intolerable.  More  than  once  he  followed  a  mother  who  was 
wheeling  her  baby  in  a  new,  or  even  a  second-hand  perambulator, 
berating  her  all  along  the  street  for  buying  those  little  wheels  of 
comfort  when  her  husband  owed  him  money. 

That  he  received  his  interest  made  no  difference ;  he  considered 
it  only  in  the  light  that  they  were  spending  his  money.  If  such 
a  woman  had  a  new  dress  or  a  new  hat,  he  always  knew  it,  and 
would  even  go  to  her  home  and  scold  her  for  her  extravagance 
and  terrify  her  to  tears  before  he  would  go  chuckling  home. 
It  was  no  wonder  God  took  his  children  or  put  it  into  their 
heads  to  find  other  homes. 

The  usurer  was  not  the  only  evil  spirit  of  the  town  with  the 
poisonous  asp  on  his  lips;  but  if  the  tongue  can  destroy,  it  can 
also  give  forth  comfort,  cool  and  sweet.  It  can  be  like  a  harp 
full  of  melody;  it  can  weave  an  armour  against  enemies  and 
allay  sorrows  as  nothing  else  can.  It  is  through  speech  and 
association  that  souls  are  revealed  to  one  another,  and  banding 
women  together  in  active  Christian  service  was  not  only  for 
the  good  they  might  do  for  the  town,  but  for  an  individual 
help  in  the  interchange  of  thoughts  and  experiences.  A  new 
home  on  Alkali  Flat,  without  a  tree,  a  blade  of  grass,  or  water 
to  make  them  grow,  a  place  to  shelter  one's  family  without 
comforts  or  conveniences,  and  without  depots  of  supplies  where 
the  needful  things  could  be  bought;  the  care  of  children  and 
the  exacting  household  duties  with  the  three  meals  a  day,  and  the 
white  poison  ash  sifting  into  every  nook  and  corner,  were  not 


5o8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

conditions  to  make  women  happy  or  contented.  Homesickness 
is  one  of  the  most  formidable  of  diseases  to  contend  against,  and 
only  the  hope  of  bettering  one's  worldly  condition  could  make 
such  a  life  even  tolerable. 

In  the  building  of  the  town  of  Hailey  in  Idaho,  and  some 
other  towns  of  the  Oregon  Short  Line,  life  was  a  constant  joy. 
Water  was  plentiful  and  green  hills  surrounded  the  townsite, 
making  outdoor  life  an  exhilaration,  and  indoor  life,  in  that  cool, 
pure  atmosphere,  was  void  of  all  the  irritating  natural  conditions 
of  Caldwell's  location.  Yet  life  on  Alkali  Flat  was  not  all  gloom. 
There  were  diversions  from  the  very  beginning  even  if  some  were 
pretty  rough.  I  recollect  that  while  our  little  sunnyside  cottage 
was  being  built  we  returned  from  a  short  trip  to  Hailey  to  find 
a  horse  race  in  full  swing  on  our  level  grounds,  and  the  unfinished 
structure  being  used  for  the  pool  room. 

It  may  have  been  that  pathetic  need  of  sympathy  that  drew 
the  women  of  Caldwell  together  so  easily  into  the  Presbyterian 
organization,  for  it  was  soon  composed  of  representatives  of 
widely  diversified  beliefs,  but  with  the  will  to  work  that  became 
the  envy  of  many  an  established  church  in  other  towns.  The 
Presbyterian  Society  was  organized  in  October,  1885,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  building  a  church,  and  to  encourage  social  intercourse, 
to  preserve  harmony  and  create  a  more  homelike  feeling  among 
the  ladies.  There  never  was  a  Presbyterian  missionary  in  the 
town.  It  was  a  voluntary  enterprise  without  precedent  in  the 
history  of  the  Presbyterian  Church. 

"To  be  in  Heaven  sure  is  a  blissful  thing, 
But,  Atlas-like,  to  prop  Heaven  on  one's  back 
Cannot  but  be  more  labor  than  delight." 

It  looked  like  a  stupendous  effort  in  a  town  of  only  a  few 
hundred  people  to  attempt  to  build  a  church  and  pay  for  it  when 
dollars  were  few  and  came  hard,  and  one  who  became  the  most 
earnest  worker  in  the  church  society  was  so  doubtful  of  success 
that  she  said  she  did  not  want  to  go  about  the  rest  of  her  life  with 
a  church  on  her  back. 

There  is  nothing  more  important  or  more  valuable  to  prevent 
brooding  and  homesickness  than  work,  something  to  keep  the 
mind  employed  with  congenial  effort,  and  she  with  many  others 
worked  with  a  will  that  was  richly  rewarded.     The  first  officers 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns       509 

elected  were:  Mrs.  Robert  E.  Strahorn,  president;  Mrs.  George 
Little,  vice-president ;  Mrs.  Gibson,  secretary,  and  Mrs.  Meacham, 
treasurer.  Mrs.  Henry  D.  Blatchley  was  the  only  other  member 
at  its  organization,  and  after  the  first  season  she  was  made 
secretary,  and  said  officers  remained  practically  unchanged  until 
the  dedication  of  the  church  in  1889. 

It  took  two  years  to  get  five  hundred  dollars  in  the  bank,  and 
that  was  raised  by  concerts,  socials,  fairs,  and  dinners  that  meant 
much  work  for  a  few  in  those  anxious  days.  The  membership 
of  the  society  increased  until  it  seemed  as  if  the  little  community 
was  bent  on  that  one  success.  The  merchants  and  all  business 
men  gave  liberally  when  the  work  assumed  shape.  And  not 
until  the  contract  was  finally  let  for  the  building  was  a  correspond- 
ence started  with  the  Home  Mission  Society  of  New  York  for 
aid  and  a  minister.  In  the  course  of  time  a  young  graduate  of  a 
Pittsburg  Theological  Seminary  was  sent  out  with  his  bride.  His 
name  was  William  James  Boone,  and  he  came  to  Caldwell  by  going 
first  to  Boise  and  consulting  with  Rev.  J.  H.  Barton  about  the 
Caldwell  field.  It  came  near  being  disastrous.  Rev.  Barton  was 
against  the  good  work  from  the  very  first.  He  said  the  work 
in  Caldwell  was  without  precedent,  it  could  n't  be  carried  out 
successfully,  and  should  not  be  persisted  in.  No  one  was  pleased 
to  see  the  ministers  arrive  together.  However,  they  were  hospit- 
ably entertained  and  the  work  explained  to  the  new  pastor  in  all 
its  details.  Every  one  rejoiced  at  his  arrival  and  the  help  it  would 
bring.  The  next  morning  they  appeared  at  our  home  to  say 
that  the  Rev.  Boone  had  decided  not  to  remain.  The  world 
seemed  to  whirl  at  this  unlooked-for  humiliation  to  the  band  of 
women  and  citizens  who  had  struggled  to  complete  the  good 
work,  and  it  thrilled  my  very  soul. 

It  required  but  a  moment  to  control  my  voice,  when  it  carried 
a  tone  of  conviction  not  to  be  misunderstood.  I  said,  *'If  that 
is  your  decision.  Rev.  Boone,  let  me  tell  you  that  the  work  stops 
right  where  it  is,  and  the  building  as  it  stands  will  be  for  sale  at 
once.  If  you,  as  a  minister  of  the  Gospel,  cannot  take  up  this 
work  that  has  been  prepared  for  you,  and  that  a  few  women  with- 
out missionary  help  have  pushed  so  near  to  completion,  if  you 
have  not  the  moral  courage  to  take  it  up,  then  we  will  surrender 
to  Rev.  Barton,  who  has  ever  discouraged  this  enterprise.  The 
building  will  be  for  sale  to-morrow." 


5IO         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  eyes  of  the  man  kindled  with  more  interest  than  he  had 
before  manifested,  and  when  he  was  further  assured  that  he  was 
shattering  the  reHgious  hopes  of  the  community,  and  that  he 
would  be  branded  as  one  lacking  the  courage  of  his  faith,  he 
turned  to  me  with  a  new  light  in  his  eye,  and  holding  out  his  hand 
to  seal  the  compact,  said:  "Mrs.  Strahorn,  I  will  remain  and 
take  up  this  work."  He  did  remain,  and  no  community  was 
ever  blessed  with  a  better  or  more  helpful  man  than  Rev.  Boone. 

His  life  has  been  a  constant  sacrifice  to  his  work.  He  has 
never  shirked  a  duty  but  assumed  many  that  he  should  not 
have  shouldered,  and  his  untiring  efforts  made  him  the  hero  of 
the  town.  There  never  was  a  prouder  man  when  the  church 
was  dedicated.  He  was  popular  with  old  and  young  alike;  in 
musical  and  literary  circles  he  shone  like  a  star.  Through  his 
unfaltering  courage  and  unexampled  persistence,  with  the  aid 
of  Montie  B.  Gwinn,  Howard  Sebree,  Sherman  Coffin,  George 
Little,  H.  D.  Blatchley,  Robert  E.  Strahorn,  and  a  few  other 
generous  donors,  the  Caldwell  College  was  started,  and  it  is  now 
with  an  endowment  of  several  hundred  thousand  dollars,  an 
institution  of  which  Idaho  is  justly  proud. 

"  The  fairest  action  of  our  human  life 
Is  scorning  to  revenge  an  injury; 
For  who  forgives  without  a  further  strife 
His  adversary's  heart  to  him  doth  tie." 

Time  heals  many  wounds,  and  as  Rev.  Boone  labored  on  to 
successful  issue  with  his  little  band,  the  man  from  Boise  was  often 
heard  to  say  he  wished  he  had  some  workers  in  his  church  like 
unto  Rev.  Boone's,  and  finally  it  came  about  that  the  cares  of 
church  and  college  were  too  great  for  one  man,  when  Rev.  Barton 
became  the  established  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  of 
Caldwell,  while  Prof.  Boone  has  since  given  his  time,  his  energy, 
and  earnings  to  such  development  of  the  college  that  it  stands  as 
an  honor  to  the  whole  Northwest. 

At  the  first  Caldwell  church  fair  there  was  a  museum  of  arts, 
and  the  man  in  charge  of  that  department  asked  if  he  might  have 
a  fellow  help  him  who  wanted  to  get  something  to  eat.  The  man 
was  brought  in  and  put  to  work,  and  later  Pard  got  a  job  for  the 
hungry  lad  in  the  printing-office.  This  same  hungry  boy  saw 
his  opportunity  and  worked  with  a  will  and  with  such  deep 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns       511 


laid  thoughts  that  he  sent  for  his  favorite  brother  Frank.  They 
worked  up  and  kept  pace  with  the  growing  country  and  became 
two  of  the  most  prominent  men  in  the  State,  being  none  less  than 
the  late  Frank  Steimenberg,  Governor  of  Idaho,  who  was  so  cruelly 
murdered,  and  A.  K.  Steunenberg,  the  banker,  who  died  soon 
after  the  noted  governor.  They  ultimately  owned  and  edited 
the  Caldwell  Tribune  for  many  years  before  branching  out  into 
larger  lines  of  useful- 
ness, and  were  men 
to  honor  and  trust 
under  a  1 1  circum- 
stances. 

A  rehearsal  for  a 
concert  took  place 
one  evening  at  the  un- 
finished church  after 
prayer  meeting,  when 
the  male  singers  would 
be  out  of  the  stores. 
The  night  was  very 
cold  and  the  devotees 
at  the  prayer  meeting 
had  gathered  around 
the  stove  for  greater 
comfort  while  con- 
ducting the  services. 

About  nine  o'clock 
two  gay  singers  start- 
ed for  the  chiirch, 
supposing  that  prayer 

meeting  had  long  since  closed.  Unfortunately  for  them  the 
meeting  was  in  full  session  and  the  minister,  who  was  standing 
in  the  midst  of  the  small  congregation,  was  interrupted  in 
the  midst  of  a  sentence  by  the  door  being  thrown  open  and 
a  cheery  "Ah  there"  from  the  unsuspecting  visitors.  "Old 
place  looks  rather  natural,"  was  the  next  break  made  by  one 
of  the  precious  pair.  "Yes,"  replied  the  other,  as  he  waltzed  up 
toward  the  minister,  "Say,  I  believe  I  will  wear  this  for  a  part 
of  my  costume  at  the  concert,"  and  he  held  up  the  garment  to  full 
view,  "but  what's  the  matter  with  you  people;  say  something, 


A  voluntary  enterprise  without  precedent  in 
the  history  of  the  Presbyterian  Church " 


512         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

can't  you?  "  Just  then  the  true  condition  of  the  situation  dawned 
upon  them,  and  they  sank  blushingly  into  chairs,  while  the  con- 
gregation chewed  their  gloves  and  hymn  books,  and  a  suspicion 
of  a  smile  played  around  the  corners  of  the  minister's  mouth,  as 
he  said:  "We  will  close  the  meeting  by  singing  hymn  number 
twenty-four." 

It  required  a  great  deal  of  coaxing  to  get  any  music  out  of  the 
boys  that  night,  and  they  have  never  been  allowed  to  forget  the 
incident.  When  the  church  was  built  there  was  a  stage  made 
across  one  end  that  we  might  give  such  concerts  and  other 
entertainments  as  were  appropriate  for  our  church  work. 

I  gladly  give  this  public  credit  to  all  the  dear  people  who 
helped  to  make  the  town  of  Caldwell,  which  to-day  is  such  a  pride 
and  credit  to  southern  Idaho.  The  alkali  has  been  washed  away, 
green  swards  surround  every  home,  swaying  branches  of  magni- 
ficent trees  sweep  the  housetops,  orchards  are  laden  with  fruits, 
and  electric  railways  traverse  the  distance  to  the  now  friendly 
city  of  Idaho's  State  Capital. 

There  are  seven  or  eight  churches  there  now  instead  of  one, 
and  the  population  reaches  into  the  thousands;  the  child  has 
matured  an  honor  to  its  State,  it  is  a  county  seat,  a  centre  of 
education  and  literary  work,  with  a  happy,  prosperous,  and 
ambitious  people. 

We  are,  no  doubt,  unknown  to  most  of  the  residents  there  at 
the  present  day,  but  we  watch  with  parental  pride  the  gradual 
development  into  a  city  with  all  the  attributes  and  refinement  of 
a  thoroughly  trained  and  disciplined  offspring.  It  is  like  a  self- 
made  man,  risen  from  poverty  and  ashes  through  education  and 
hard  work  to  a  place  among  the  best. 

In  the  fall  of  '83  a  curious  incident  happened  while  en  route 
East  in  charge  of  a  young  relative  who  had  been  visiting  with  us. 
We  reached  Denver  without  anything  unusual  happening,  and 
our  train  pulled  out  over  the  Kansas  Pacific  for  Chicago  in  the 
early  evening.  We  were  in  high  spirits  over  the  good  time  we 
had  enjoyed  in  Denver,  and  as  we  passed  from  the  dining-car 
back  into  the  sleeper  the  train  gave  a  lurch  that  threw  my  purse 
out  of  my  hand.  It  contained  not  only  money  but  trunk  checks, 
bank  checks,  and  all  my  railroad  passes,  which  were  many,  my 
Pullman  pass  included.  The  conductor  stopped  the  train  as  soon 
as  he  could  be  notified  and  backed  up  about  three  miles  to  the 


Caldwell  and  Other  Frontier  Towns      513 

spot  where  the  purse  went  off.  The  train  crew  with  lanterns 
turned  out  to  find  it,  but  made  a  vain  search. 

The  train  could  not  be  delayed  longer  and  we  were  dropped 
off  at  a  station  some  thirty  miles  from  where  the  purse  was  lost 
as  it  was  the  first  point  where  we  could  get  lodgings.  The  morn- 
ing train  was  to  take  us  back  to  Magnolia.  We  were  obliged  to 
sleep  at  a  section  house  and  be  ready  at  six  a.m.  When  the 
train  came  rolling  in  the  conductor  had  full  instructions  to  carry 
us  back  to  Magnolia  and  there  get  the  section  men  to  go  with  the 
handcar  some  three  or  four  miles  to  the  spot.  Being  penniless, 
the  conductor  ordered  a  good  breakfast  for  us  in  the  dining-car, 
so  we  were  ready  for  the  search.  We  alighted  at  Magnolia  only 
to  learn  that  the  section  men  with  the  car  had  already  gone  in  an 
opposite  direction.  It  was  raining  and  the  prospect  was  dismal 
indeed.  The  conductor  had  been  advised  regarding  some  tramps 
on  the  track  who  were  being  watched  and  who  were  to  be  arrested 
if  the  purse  was  not  found.  There  was  not  a  soul  left  in  Mag- 
nolia but  the  telegraph  operator.  I  begged  for  the  loan  of  a 
revolver,  as  the  young  lady  and  myself  were  confronted  with 
the  necessity  of  patrolling  the  track  for  that  three  or  four  miles, 
and  I  wanted  the  gun  for  fear  we  might  meet  those  tramps. 

We  scanned  the  track  and  embankment  closely  and  had  the 
locality  in  sight  when  along  came  a  prince  with  a  fine  carriage  and 
a  span  of  gray  horses,  and  he  called  out  to  learn  our  trouble  and 
lend  assistance.  Although  much  fatigued  we  strenuously  declined 
his  aid  and  as  we  saw  him  reluctantly  leaving  us  I  feared  I  had 
been  too  severe  in  declining  the  kind  offer  to  wait  and  carry  us 
back  to  the  station. 

He  had  not  gone  far  when  my  eye  lit  on  the  treasure  we  were 
seeking,  and  we  gave  such  glad  shouts  of  triumph  that  our  Prince 
came  back.  Some  of  the  gold-pieces  and  the  trunk  check  had 
rolled  out,  but  everything  was  found  close  by  or  about  half  way 
down  the  embankment. 

We  had  telegraphed  to  Denver  for  a  carriage  to  be  sent  after 
us  for  there  was  no  train  out  from  Magnolia  until  late  in  the  after- 
noon, but  our  Prince,  Mr.  Malony,  a  cattle  king,  who  was  on  his 
way  to  Denver,  insisted  on  promoting  our  speedy  return  to  Den- 
ver by  riding  with  him  until  we  met  friends  coming  for  us.  Mr. 
Malony  had  just  finished  a  fine  house  on  his  ranch  and  was  to 
give  a  large  dancing  party  there  the  next  night  to  which  he 
33 


514         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

extended  us  a  cordial  invitation,  but  I  concluded  it  was  best  to 
hurry  my  young  cousin  home  to  her  mother  before  the  mutual 
admiration  that  was  so  suddenly  engendered  should  become  more 
serious. 

She  has  often  told  me  that  I  spoiled  the  best  romance  of  her 
life  when  I  would  not  allow  her  to  go  to  Prince  Malony's  ball. 

I  have  almost  overlooked  one  funny  detail  of  townsite  pro- 
motion work  which  was  indulged  in  at  Caldwell  on  the  occasion 
of  our  excursion  from  Utah  referred  to  in  this  chapter.  Upon 
leaving  Caldwell  a  few  days  before  Pard  had  especially  charged 
all  hands  to  have  the  embryo  city  look  its  best  and  at  all  hazards 
to  coax  something  green  out  of  the  alkali  soil  in  the  open  square 
in  front  of  the  station  in  which  rye  and  grass  seed  had  just  been 
thickly  sown.  Imagine  our  surprise  upon  arrival  to  find  a 
thrifty  young  pine  forest  covering  that  barren  acre  or  two  and 
a  beautiful  carpet  of  green  just  noticeable  where  nothing  but 
sage  and  greasewood  had  ever  grown  before.  It  is  hardly 
necessary  to  say  that  the  pine  saplings  had  been  freshly  cut  and 
hauled  down  from  distant  mountains  the  day  before  and  trans- 
planted that  night.  The  "grove"  filled  every  requirement  for 
the  twenty-four  hours  the  Utah  visitors  were  in  the  country. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 
POT-POURRI 


w 


HE  work  of  building  a  town 
does  not  all  fall  on  the  man 
who  locates  the  townsite,  at- 
tends to  titles,  advertises  for 
people  to  come  and  make  their  for- 
tunes, and  provides  work  for  men  to 
do.  Such  a  man's  wife  is  obligated  to 
help  entertain  a  number  of  the  new- 
comers and  make  them  contented  until 
they  are  located.  In  Caldwell,  where 
all  natiu-e,  except 
the  sunny  skies,  was 
forbidding ,  where 
there  were  no  trees 
or  grass,  no  hotel,  no 
place  but  saloons  for 
young  men,  no  pub- 
lic place  where  a 
palatable  meal  was 
served,  and  withal 
no  servants  to  be  had,  it  meant  a  pull  in  the  domestic  harness 
that  required  a  strong  heart,  a  head  to  plan,  and  willing  hands 
to  execute. 

Caldwell  was  only  one  town  of  the  many  in  our  nursery,  and 
at  the  time  we  kept  house  in  Hailey  we  also  had  an  establishment 
in  Caldwell  and  Denver.  One  unacquainted  with  the  extensive- 
ness  of  such  affairs  cannot  understand  the  amount  of  travelling 
it  required  to  keep  up  the  work.  Even  though  we  had  a  home 
it  was  but  temporarily  occupied.  Titles  had  to  be  established 
that  involved  many  hot  and  protracted  legal  fights,  and  required 

515 


51 6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

several  trips  to  Washington,  D.  C;  there  were  new  counties  to 
be  carved  out ;  county  seats  to  be  moved  and  other  political  work 
to  be  done ;  carload  after  carload  of  supplies  to  be  bought ;  lum- 
ber, hardware,  groceries,  etc.;  roads  to  make;  canals  and  bridges 
to  build ;  houses  to  be  erected,  and  an  endless  chain  of  other  re- 
quirements, besides  the  regular  railroad,  literary,  and  advertising 
work.  The  trips  from  one  town  to  another  were  tedious,  dusty, 
and  irksome,  and  in  most  unseemly  hours.  Often  we  left  Cald- 
well at  9:30  A.M.  and  did  not  reach  Shoshone  until  midnight  on  a 
mixed  train,  when  the  time  now  is  only  four  or  five  hours.  We 
made  it  with  the  Union  Pacific  paymaster  once  in  four  hours, 
and  on  the  way  some  boys  tried  to  wreck  the  train.  They  placed 
a  rod  across  the  track  in  such  a  way  as  to  throw  the  train  into 
Snake  River,  but  the  danger  was  discovered  by  Roadmaster 
Frank  Olmstead  in  time  to  prevent  the  disaster,  and  the  two 
boys  were  caught  in  Caldwell.  The  older  one  kept  wishing 
aloud  for  his  "44"  to  blaze  his  way  out  of  the  court  room;  he 
was  assuredly  a  degenerate,  and  had  doubtless  been  reading 
of  Slade's  life  in  Montana. 

The  one  train  for  Hailey  left  Shoshone  at  6 130  in  the  morning, 
and  if  one  overslept  he  had  to  wait  and  fight  it  out  with  old  Mor- 
pheus the  next  morning.  In  1883  and  1 884  besides  having  a  home 
in  three  towns  we  also  had  rooms  fitted  up  in  Shoshone  so  we 
could  be  more  comfortable  there.  In  '84,  we  travelled  seven 
thousand  miles  in  five  weeks.  Once  on  our  way  from  Caldwell 
to  Hailey  Pard  picked  up  something  from  the  floor  of  the  car 
and  looked  at  it  so  curiously  that  I  asked  him  what  it  was.  He 
replied  it  was  the  elixir  of  life,  and  showed  me  the  top  of  a 
baby's  bottle.  "Good!"  I  cried.  "Save  it  and  give  it  to 
Caldwell  while  it  is  teething!" 

Pullman  sleepers  were  not  put  on  the  Oregon  Short  Line  until 
December  i,  1884;  then  there  was  direct  connection  through  to 
Portland  by  changing  cars  at  Huntington  for  an  Oregon  Railway 
and  Navigation  train,  and  by  ferrying  across  the  Willamette 
River  from  East  Portland,  and  the  time  between  Omaha  and 
Portland  was  shortened  thirty  hours. 

In  '85  we  gave  up  the  Denver  residence,  and  for  a  time  the 
house  in  Hailey,  and  lived  on  a  homestead  claim  on  the  outskirts 
of  Caldwell.  While  there  Pard  helped  to  organize  an  Odd  Fellows 
Lodge.     He  never  had  been  a  member  of  any  organization,  and 


Pot-Pourri  517 

he  told  me  in  all  sincerity  that  he  would  be  home  about  ten 
o'clock.  He  was  out  so  seldom  that  I  had  a  dainty  little  supper 
ready  for  him  at  eleven,  as  I  knew  he  could  not  be  home  before 
that  time,  but  I  waited  until  twelve  o'clock,  and  he  did  not  come. 
Coyotes  held  a  wild  carnival  all  around  the  house.  To  be  nearly 
a  mile  from  a  neighbor,  with  those  sounds  ringing  in  one's  ears, 
and  closing  in  about  the  house,  made  me  wonder  if  they  were  as 
timid  at  night  as  they  were  in  the  daytime,  and  if  perchance 
they  had  not  already  made  away  with  Pard.  I  called  to  mind 
all  the  dreadful  threats  that  had  been  made  against  him  by  the 
Boise  people,  who  were  so  enraged  because  of  the  town  of  Cald- 
well springing  into  rivalry,  until  I  could  endure  the  suspense  no 
longer. 

One  o'clock  came  and  one  thirty,  and  still  he  was  not  there; 
the  dainty  supper  was  spoiled  and  forgotten.  There  was  no 
telephone,  and  no  wa}^  of  communicating  with  the  town,  so  at 
two  o'clock  I  hastily  dressed,  lit  the  lantern,  and  with  my  trusty 
revolver  started  out  for  town.  The  way  was  as  black  as  an 
underground  passage;  the  coyotes  yelped  and  barked,  but  fell 
back  from  the  path  as  I  scanned  every  foot  of  the  rough  highway. 
I  thought  of  all  the  things  the  Boiseites  and  old  Weiserites  had 
threatened  toTto  to  Pard,  and  held  myself  with  a  stern  grip  as  I 
thought  of  crossing  the  Canyon  Creek  bridge  that  lay  between 
our  place  and  town.  It  was  a  desolate,  lonely  place  to  pass  at 
any  time,  and  I  wondered  what  would  happen  now.  When  well 
on  my  way,  trying  to  conceal  my  light,  except  as  I  turned  it  upon 
the  trail,  I  suddenly  heard  footsteps  away  down  by  the  bridge. 
Sound  carried  a  long  way  in  that  vibrant  air,  and  I  stopped  and 
listened  to  learn  which  way  the  person  was  going,  for  aside  from 
the  howling  wolves  and  an  occasional  hooting  owl,  there  was  not 
another  sound  to  break  the  pall  of  silence.  Yes !  yes !  I  was  sure 
it  was  Pard's  footsteps,  and  covering  my  light  still  closer  I  ran 
back  to  the  house  as  fast  and  lightfooted  as  I  could  in  the  dark. 
As  I  neared  our  gate  I  stumbled  and  fell  into  the  ditch,  which 
*'was  not  as  wide  as  a  barn  door  nor  as  deep  as  a  well"  but  the 
water  in  it  was  as  wet  as  the  ocean.  My  light  was  put  out  but  I 
splashed  about  and  got  onto  my  feet  again,  thinking  a  lot  of  un- 
utterables  about  lodges  and  things,  and,  soaked  to  the  skin,  rushed 
on  to  the  house.  The  keyhole  had  apparently  been  moved  and 
the  key  was  forever  finding  the  right  place.     I  heard  the  foot- 


5i8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

steps  coming  nearer.  The  lantern  was  sent  skipping  out  the 
back  door;  I  doflEed  my  hat  and  had  just  thrown  my  wet  gown 
out  of  sight  when  I  heard  Pard's  famiHar  knock.  As  I  hastily 
threw  on  a  robe  and  opened  the  door,  he  said  he  knew  I  was  up 
and  waiting,  for  he  saw  the  open  door  as  he  came  along  the  road, 
and  then  he  upbraided  himself  for  staying  away  so  long.  He  put 
his  arm  around  me  and  noticed  that  my  hair  was  wet  and  my 
heart  was  thumping  like  a  steam  engine.  I  explained  that  I  had 
had  water  on  my  head,  and  as  I  was  not  quite  sure  who  was  com- 
ing it  frightened  me  a  little.  I  did  not  tell  him  anything  about 
my  anxious  night  until  one  evening  when  we  were  in  Chicago  with 
a  number  of  friends  who  were  begging  for  some  of  my  western 


"  The  coyotes  scented  the  prey 


experiences,  and  I  told  them  of  "the  night  my  husband  joined 
the  lodge."  When  I  had  finished  no  one  was  more  surprised 
than  Pard  himself,  and  he  came  over  to  m.e  and  said:  "Well, 
by  thunder,  wife,  I'll  never  do  that  thing  again. "  I  was  not  sur- 
prised at  the  hour  of  his  return  when  I  knew  the  circumstances, 
and  he  himself  learned  some  things  about  lodge  initiations  that 
were  new  and  lasting.  I  learned  the  next  day  after  the  adventure 
why  the  coyotes  were  so  very  bad  that  night.  We  had  a  pedi- 
greed short-horn  cow  die  that  day,  and  she  had  been  buried  with  a 
good  deal  of  ceremony  and  regret.  The  coyotes  scented  the 
prey  and  dug  up  the  carcass,  holding  high  mass,  with  a  banquet 
of  their  own,  and  whether  the  poor  old  cow  will  rise  at  resurrection 
time  as  a  cow  or  a  coyote  is  an  unanswered  question. 

One  evening  in  Caldwell,  two  Union  Pacific  officials  on  a  trip 
West  had  spent  the  evening  with  us  and  as  they  went  out  of  the 
gate  they  mistook  the  glimmering  water  in  that  selfsaniC  ditch 
into  which  I  had  stumbled,  for  the  walk.  The  two  made  a  leap 
at  the  same  instant,  and  both  went  into  the  water.  When  they 
reached  town  in  their  baptismal  clothes  they  were  told  there  was 


Pot-Pourri  519 

no  use  in  telling  that  they  came  from  Strahorn's,  for  no  one  ever 
came  from  there  in  that  condition,  and  they  left  town  on  a  night 
train  with  unsavory  reputations.  No  one  down  town  knew  who 
they  were,  but  we  never  let  them  forget  the  impression  they  left 
with  our  dear  people. 

We  were  so  far  out  of  town  and  away  from  neighbors  that  my 
revolver  was  always  kept  within  reach.  It  became  a  familiar 
saying  at  our  door  when  any  one  came  unexpectedly  after  night, 
''It  is  I,  Mrs.  Strahom,  don't  shoot!" 

One  day  a  tramp  came  to  the  lattice  door  at  the  back  of  the 
house ;  it  was  locked  only  with  a  simple  catch.  I  stood  just  inside 
the  kitchen  door  and  held  our  dog  by  the  collar,  and  asked  the 
tramp  what  he  wanted.  That  dog  was  a  full-blooded  degenerate, 
who  would  kiss  and  caress  every  tramp  and  never  make  a  noise, 
but  when  well-dressed  people  approached  the  house  he  was  ready 
to  "eat  'em  alive."  I  held  the  dog  by  the  collar,  as  if  he  would  be 
some  help  in  defence  if  he  were  let  loose.  But  I  think  the  fel- 
low must  have  been  around  there  before  and  knew  that  he  had  a 
friend  in  the  ijpngrel,  for  he  quickly  replied  to  me  that  he  wanted 
to  come  in.  When  I  said  he  could  not  come  in,  he  used  an  oath 
or  two  and  said  he  would  come  in,  and  at  the  same  time  threw 
his  weight  against  the  light  door  that  sprung  open.  I  whipped 
out  the  revolver,  and  when  he  recovered  his  equilibrium  he  was 
looking  straight  into  the  barrel  of  it.  I  gave  him  five  seconds  to 
get  out  and  over  the  fence,  and  said  I  would  shoot  him  on  sight  if 
he  came  back.  I  never  before  saw  a  man  run  so  fast,  and  I  fol- 
lowed him  out  and  fired  a  couple  of  shots  in  the  air  lest  he  doubt 
my  sincerity. 

The  first  time  we  went  to  a  church  service  in  Caldwell  an  old 
farmer  living  in  the  valley  was  the  orator  of  the  day.  He  men- 
tioned us  by  name  three  times  in  his  discourse.  Once  he  said  he 
saw  Mr.  Strahorn  in  !  is  congregation  and  several  other  intelli- 
gent men;  he  did  not  say  what  he  thought  of  the  rest  of  us.  The 
men  and  women  sat  on  different  sides  of  the  room ;  women  nursed 
their  babies  and  gave  them  other  lunches,  and  all  the  care  of  a 
nursery;  the  preacher's  boots  were  thick  with  dust,  and  he  was 
a  bad  object  lesson  of  tidiness  for  the  young  men  before  him. 
One  woman  brought  a  rocking  chair  and  crooned  to  her  baby  all 
through  the  service.  Some  of  the  women  took  off  their  hats  and 
wraps  and  made  themselves  quite  at  home. 


520         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Our  home  had  an  open  door  for  most  of  the  young  men  of 
the  town,  and  there  was  scarcely  an  evening  of  the  week  that 
some  of  them  were  not  there.  They  knew  they  would  get  some 
good  coffee,  doughnuts,  and  sandwiches,  and  perhaps  ice-cream 
and  cake.  One  or  two  or  more  of  them  with  other  townspeople 
were  always  expected  for  a  Sunday  dinner,  and  a  1  the  influence 
that  we  had  was  exerted  to  keep  the  single  men  from  saloons  and 
bad  company.     Many  new  people  were  brought  over  for  dinner 


It  meant  chickens  in  the  pot,  cakes  in  the  oven,  and  bread  in  the  pan 


or  supper;  sometimes  it  would  be  a  man  and  wife,  and  sometimes 
a  family  of  six  or  seven. 

If  Pard  was  away  he  might  wire  that  he  would  be  home  the 
next  morning  at  six  o'clock  with  four  or  five  house  guests.  That 
meant  chickens  in  the  pot,  cakes  in  the  oven,  bread  in  the  pan,  to 
an  unlimited  degree.  In  season  there  was  fruit  to  preserve, 
pickles  to  make,  jellies  to  be  boiled,  conserves  to  be  mixed  and 
cooked,  bottled,  labelled,  and  stored  on  call.  I  had  to  be  ready 
for  calls  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  to  take  friends  and  strangers  for 


Pot-Pourri  521 

a  drive,  and  be  prepared  to  go  with  Pard  whenever  it  was  possible. 
I  often  wonder  now  how  I  ever  did  it. 

There  were  sick  ones  to  visit,  church  affairs  to  attend,  concerts, 
socials,  and  fairs.  Canyon  County  had  its  twenty-fifth  anniver- 
sary of  its  first  county  fair  in  October,  1907.  As  we,  almost 
alone,  put  the  first  fair  through  successfully  a  quarter  of  a  century 
before,  the  townspeople  of  Caldwell,  where  the  fair  is  annually 
held,  sent  us  a  pressing  invitation  to  be  there  at  the  jubilee,  and 
it  was  a  disappointment  to  all  that  we  had  to  send  regrets.  The 
first  fair  was  a  sort  of  a  festival  to  celebrate  the  organization  of 
the  new  Canyon  County,  that  had  been  taken  from  Ada  County, 
and  which  Boise  City  had  tried  to  prevent  at  an  expense  of  twenty 
thousand  dollars. 

One  day  Pard  went  from  Caldwell  to  North  Powder,  Oregon, 
a  few  miles  west  of  Baker  City,  for  some  lumber.  He  dined  that 
evening  at  the  home  of  the  lumberman  from  whom  he  was  buying 
and  there  were  several  other  guests  present.  During  dinner  the 
conversation  turned  upon  Mrs.  Abigail  Dunniway,  the  Woman's 
Rights  leader  of  Oregon,  and  a  number  of  uncomplimentary 
remarks  were  made.  During  the  evening,  after  one  or  two  of 
the  guests  had  gone,  Mrs.  Dunniway  herself  called.  She  was 
attired  in  a  handsome  blue  silk  dress,  a  sealskin  cloak,  kid  gloves, 
a  dainty  bonnet,  and  a  carried  large  fan.  After  the  intro- 
ductions, for  she  was  a  stranger  and  an  uninvited  guest,  there 
were  a  few  pleasantries  between  herself  and  the  other  guests; 
then  she  surprised  them  by  taking  a  position  by  a  stand  and  pro- 
ducing some  notes  from  a  dainty  hand-bag.  She  glanced  around 
the  room  and  noted  that  every  one  was  expecting  to  be  bored  and 
was  wiggling  in  his  chair  and  thinking  of  some  avenue  of  escape, 
but  she  gave  them  no  chance,  and  began  talking  at  once.  She 
repeated  every  remark  that  had  been  made  about  her  at  the 
dinner,  which  threw  the  party  into  a  strangely  humiliating  mood. 
Then  she  retaliated  most  facetiously  upon  each  one  who  had 
talked  about  her.  They  were  kept  in  a  roar  of  laughter  for  more 
than  an  hour,  when,  without  ceremony,  she  removed  her  bonnet 
and  wig  and  revealed  an  impostor,  a  guest  who  had  retired  soon 
after  the  dinner,  but  whom  none  but  the  host  had  recognized  in 
the  charming  personator  of  Mrs.  Dunniway. 

The  whereabouts  of  that  eastern  Oregon  lumber  purchased 
by  Pard  on  that  trip  is  still  somewhat  of  a  mystery.     As  this  was 


522         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

his  first  important  commercial  venture  since  his  newsboy  days, 
he  is  a  little  tender  on  the  subject  yet.  It  did  n't  rain  at  Caldwell 
for  a  year.  This  pecuHar  brand  of  lumber  could  n't  stand  the 
merciless  heat  and  sirocco  winds,  which  shrivelled  every  vulner- 
able thing.  Some  said  the  lumber  had  simply  shrunk  to  sHvers, 
and  others  that  it  had  warped  itself  all  over  the  Snake  River 
desert,  because  it  was  well  known  that  an  ex-cowboy  was  kept 
busy  herding  the  twisting  and  wriggling  boards  and  timbers  inside 
the  limits  of  Alkali  Flat.  One  thing  Pard  does  know,  that,  owing 
to  direful  reports  he  got  while  on  a  business  trip  to  Washington, 
D.  C,  he  sent  Uncle  Billy  Emmert  to  investigate  and  report,  with 
the  following  startling  result: 

"Dear  Bob: 

"  You  have  a  lumber  yard  without  any  lumber;  a  few  accounts  receivable 
for  lumber  sold,  which  I  am  advised  you  might  as  well  forget,  and  a  fine  big 
stack  of  bills  payable  for  lumber  bought,  amounting  to  $11,740.23,  which  I 
guess  you  will  have  to  pay,  as  I  understand  your  partner  has  skipped  the 
country.  Yours  with  sympathy, 

"  Uncle  Bill." 

The  winter  of  '84  and  '85  was  made  a  joyous  one  by  having 
my  father  and  mother  with  us  for  a  few  months.  Two  cousins 
were  to  come  with  them,  and  we  looked  forward  to  happiness 
too  great  to  express.  One  of  my  sisters.  Dr.  H.  E.  Lacy,  had 
followed  the  profession  of  our  dear  old  father,  and  had  graduated 
in  the  spring  of  '84  at  the  Woman's  Medical  College  in  Chicago, 
then  spent  several  months  under  our  sunny  skies.  Now  that 
she  had  gone  back  to  her  professional  work  the  loneliness  was 
dispelled  by  this  new  anticipation. 

We  met  our  guests  in  Ogden  and  took  them  first  to  the  great 
Mormon  city.  My  father  was  a  man  of  six  feet  two,  broad 
shouldered,  and  of  fine  physique,  whose  average  weight  was  about 
two  hundred  and  forty  pounds,  and  he  attracted  not  a  little  atten- 
tion by  his  fine  proportions  and  dignified  appearance.  He  and 
Pard  were  strolling  along  the  streets  of  Zion,  when  a  Mormon 
woman  with  nearly  a  baker's  dozen  of  children  surrounded  my 
father.  She  grabbed  and  squeezed  and  kissed  his  hand,  and  called 
him  the  dear  Bishop,  while  the  children  embraced  his  legs,  coat 
tails,  and  other  points  of  vantage.  She  would  not  be  persuaded 
that  it  was  a  case  of  mistaken  identity  and  said  no  one  need  think 
that  she  did  not  know  her  own  dear  Bishop.     It  was  not  until  a 


Pot-Pourri 


523 


motley  crowd  had  gathered  around  them  that  they  could  break 
away  from  her  tearful  persistence.  Father  said  he  would  have 
enjoyed  the  joke  on  himself  if  the  children  had  only  been  clean, 
but  they  were  all  an  unsightly,  if  not  an  ungodly  lot,  and  he  was 
ready  to  leave  the  town  before  there  was  a  repetition  of  the 


scene. 


There  are  many  incidents  of  that  winter  of  which  I  have  but 
little  record.     Having  the  home  people  with  me,  the  regular 


Some  of  our  pioneer  friends  of  Caldwell 

chronicle  of  events  was  not  written  and  stored  away  with  mother's 
treasures,  to  come  to  light  again  at  this  late  date.  But  there 
was  one  man  and  wife  at  our  church  fair  who,  if  they  did  not  live 
in  a  shoe,  had  more  children  than  they  knew  what  to  do  with, 
the  latest  being  a  pair  of  healthy  twins  which  they  insisted  that 
we  must  take.  And  surely  parents  never  tried  more  persistently 
to  dispose  of  their  offspring,  in  a  week  of  untiring  effort. 

One  condition  in  Caldwell  greatly  distressed  my  mother  then 
and  as  long  as  we  remained  in  the  town.  A  lone  crazy  man  lived 
about  a  mile  out  beyond  us,  and  he  passed  our  house  several 
times  a  day.  He  always  carried  a  rifle,  and  with  a  high-keyed 
voice  incessantly  poured  out  a  volley  of  oaths  that  should  have 
made  him  tremble.     He  never  came  to  the  house  and  I  never  felt 


5^4         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

much  afraid  of  him,  but  I  did  feel  that  he  should  be  taken  care  of. 
The  last  I  knew  of  him  he  was  still  living  in  the  same  old  way 
and  repeating  the  same  old  volley. 

An  old  travelling  preacher  took  dinner  with  us  one  day,  and 
as  he  bowed  his  head  to  return  thanks  for  our  frugal  meal,  we 
were  somewhat  surprised  to  hear  him  say:  "O  Lord,  Adam 
sinned  by  eating  and  Noah  sinned  by  drinking ;  keep  us  from  the 
wickedness  of  the  one  and  the  folly  of  the  other,  Amen. "  It  re- 
minded me  of  the  Rev.  A.  P.  Mead,  who  had  been  a  frequent 
visitor  at  my  father's  home,  and  on  one  occasion,  as  he  dropped 
in  unexpectedly  at  lunch  time,  he  took  his  place  at  the  home 
table,  where  he  was  always  a  welcome  guest.  He  had  a  very 
strong  dislike  for  some  eatables,  and  the  day  in  question  he  fairly 
raced  through  his  table  blessing  and  closed  it  by  saying,  "for 
Christ's  sake.  Sister  Green,  please  put  this  cheese  on  the  other 
end  of  the  table."  He  even  neglected  to  say  "Amen,"  and 
when  we  raised  our  eyes  he  was  holding  the  plate  of  cheese  at 
arm's  length. 

At  Christmas  time  a  sage  tree  cut  from  our  own  ranch  was 
used  for  a  Christmas  tree;  it  was  at  least  unique,  and  added  a 
little  novelty  to  the  day.  Christmas  is  a  day  we  love  to  keep 
exclusively  for  the  family,  and  I  only  asked  a  couple  of  outsiders 
to  share  our  pleasure.  I  was  wholly  unprepared  to  receive  a 
scathing  letter  from  one  whom  I  had  met  but  a  few  times,  scoring 
me  soundly  for  leaving  her  and  her  family  out  of  my  Christmas 
arrangements.  If  she  wanted  to  spoil  my  Christmas,  she  fully 
succeeded,  but  she  did  not  make  me  change  my  plans. 

Not  less  than  two  thousand  trees  were  set  out  in  Caldwell 
in  one  year  after  the  irrigating  ditches  were  made  to  bring  in  the 
life-giving  sustenance  for  them.  Great  canals  were  built,  bring- 
ing water  on  to  thousands  of  acres  of  sun-dried  lands  and  giving 
life  to  the  earth's  parched  lips,  that  were  made  to  smile  in  green 
fields  and  orchard  blooms.  Whenever  the  alkali  was  drained  out, 
the  soil  was  rich,  deep,  and  fertile.  But  no  one  can  imagine  the 
trouble  that  camps  on  the  trail  of  an  irrigating  canal.  It  looks 
like  such  a  refreshing,  innocent  joy  as  it  glistens  and  glides  on 
through  the  thirsty  land,  and  so  it  was  when  it  stayed  in  its  bed, 
but  that  was  a  land  of  badgers,  and  in  a  single  unguarded  night 
they  would  dig  a  hole  in  the  bank  and  turn  the  whole  stream 
into  some  one's  house  or  garden,  or  flood  the  wrong  territory  and 


Pot-Pourri  5^5 

empty  the  ditch.  Farmers  and  townspeople  alike  were  greedy 
for  equal  share,  and  many  a  night  a  secreted  watchman  laid  his 
hand  on  a  meddler  of  the  head  gate.  Those  irrigating  ditches 
make  more  thrilling  history  for  a  locality  than  a  railroad. 

Five  hundred  shade  trees  were  set  out  around  our  modest 
little  home,  and  likewise  bordered  the  walk  to  the  town,  nearly 
a  mile  away.  In  the  orchard  there  was  such  marvellous  growth 
that  the  first  year  of  fruit  bearing  brought  two  matured  crops 
of  apples. 

Caldwell  was  active  in  spreading  her  arms  for  commerce, 
and  when  Silver  City,  seventy-five  miles  away,  advertised  for 
help  to  build  a  telegraph  line  to  the  town  giving  the  most  help, 
it  incited  a  rivalry  between  the  towns  of  Boise,  Caldwell,  Moim- 
tain  Home,  and  struggling  Nampa  that  was  imique  and  exciting. 

Silver  City  was  the  home  of  the  famous  Delamar,  who  had 
taken  such  wealth  from  mother-earth  and  laid  it  at  the  feet  of 
the  New  York  beauty  who  proceeded  to  make  him  the  notorious 
man  of  the  hour.  Silver  City  made  Delamar,  but  Delamar  forgot 
Silver  City.  It  often  happens  in  this  life  that  we  forget  the 
sources  from  which  prosperity  springs  for  us. 

The  new  wire  line  meant  the  acquisition  of  a  mail,  stage,  and 
freight  line  for  the  successful  bidder,  and  there  was  scheming 
that  boded  a  bitter  fight.  The  sealed  bids  were  opened  in  Silver 
City  on  a  given  day,  with  ample  representation  from  each  hopeful 
town.  Boise  was  a  determined  bidder,  bound  to  win  at  any  cost, 
but  she  wanted  a  telephone  line,  and  made  the  mistake  of  offering 
$2500  for  the  telephone  instead  of  the  telegraph.  Caldwell's 
bid  was  second,  with  only  $1050  for  the  telegraph  line.  It 
looked  for  a  time  as  if  Boise  was  going  to  get  it,  but  the  Cald- 
well delegation  insisted  there  was  no  call  for  a  telephone  bid, 
and  demanded  that  Caldwell's  bid  be  accepted,  and  after  some 
exciting  parley  Caldwell  got  the  wire.  Then  the  Caldwellites 
chartered  the  stage  and  went  home.  They  would  not  allow  any 
other  delegates  on  board,  so  the  defeated  parties  had  to  wait 
there  in  the  mountain  town  another  twenty-four  hours.  It  was 
the  first  day  of  April,  in  1887,  and  when  the  Caldwellites  reached 
home  they  telegraphed  to  Boise  that  Caldwell  was  beaten,  which 
made  Nampa  and  Boise  get  up  a  big  celebration  of  bonfires,  can- 
nons, red  lights,  and  speeches,  but  there  was  much  humiliation 
when  they  learned  the  next  day  of  the  April  fool  joke  that  had 


526         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


been  perpetrated  on  them,  and  the  jubilee  that  Caldwell  was 
having  on  April  second. 

I  did  a  little  celebrating  myself  that  day,  as  it  was  Pard's 
little  speech  that  won  the  day  for  Caldwell,  and  while  waiting 
for  him  to  come  home  from  town  I  amused  myself  by  shooting 
jack-rabbits  with  my  revolver;  I  rested  my  elbow  on  my  knee 
for  a  steadier  aim,  and  as  I  pulled  the  trigger  the  gun  kicked  back 
into  my  face,  broke  the  lens  of  my  glass,  and  cut  two  rather  deep 
holes  in  my  cheek.  It  was  a  narrow  escape  for  an  eye.  Pard 
was  close  to  the  gate  as  I  fired,  and  he  hurried  on  to  find  me 
stunned  and  bleeding.    I  was  greatly  humiliated,  because  I  prided 


O^l^-^x 


"Then  the  Caldwellites  chartered  the  stage  and  went  home" 

myself  on  my  marksmanship,  but  he  told  me  that  I  must  have 
shot  v/ith  my  game  eye,  because  I  hit  the  rabbit  all  right.  It 
was  such  a  rare  thing  for  him  to  make  a  pun  on  any  of  my 
weaknesses  that  we  were  rejuvenated  by  a  good  laugh. 

The  only  other  time  that  I  was  shot  (?)  was  when  Pard  was 
at  Mountain  Home  and  I  in  Caldwell.  He  had  gone  there  to 
have  a  settlement  with  a  man  noted  for  his  quarrelsome  disposi- 
tion, and  who  handled  a  gun  without  regard  to  results  on  slight 
provocation.  I  went  to  sleep  praying  for  Pard's  safety,  and  com- 
pelling myself  to  believe  that  all  would  be  well,  but  I  was  sud- 
denly awakened  a  few  hours  later  by  a  shot  that  seemed  to  strike 
me,  or  the  headboard  of  the  bed;  I  stretched  myself  about  but 
could  not  discover  that  I  myself  was  shot.  I  ran  my  hand  over 
the  headboard,  but  felt  no  break  in  the  smooth  surface.  Not 
another  sound  penetrated  through  the  awful  silence.  I  was 
alone  but  I  did  not  want  to  call  for  help  until  I  knew  what  was 
happening.     Then  came  the  sickening  remembrance  of  stories 


Pot-Pourri  527 

that  I  had  heard  and  read  of  people  who  had  "heard  shots  fired" 
and  "seen  things"  that  were  happening  a  long  distance  off.  All 
fear  of  any  danger  for  myself  left  me,  and  I  felt  my  way  along  in 
the  dark  to  the  window  for  a  breath  of  air.  The  night  was  sti- 
fling and  hot ;  not  the  slightest  breeze  came  in  at  the  wide  open 
window,  but  as  I  put  out  my  hand  to  open  the  screen  and  look 
about  my  hand  suddenly  struck  against  the  glass.  I  knew  at 
once  that  the  gunshot  was  only  the  falling  of  that  window,  and 
my  shadow  thoughts  flew  away  when  I  again  raised  the  sash.  I 
looked  for  no  more  spooks  or  gun  holes,  and  Pard  came  home 
in  fine  spirits  on  the  morning  train. 

Some  seasons  no  two  successive  letters  would  be  sent  home 
from  the  same  place,  because  so  many  affairs  called  Pard  away 
to  other  towns  of  the  syndicate  or  to  Portland,  Salt  Lake,  Denver, 
Omaha,  or  farther  east.  It  seemed  as  if  we  were  ever  to  be  mi- 
gratory birds,  only  birds  had  the  advantage  of  us,  because  they 
lived  in  the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  we — well,  we  lived  in  the 
trunks.  It  makes  me  tired  even  now  when  I  think  of  the  weight 
of  fatigue  we  often  labored  under  in  belonging  to  the  rolling 
stock  of  the  Union  Pacific  Railway  Company. 

One  summer  we  left  the  hot  Boise  valley  for  a  camping 
trip  on  the  head  waters  of  the  Weiser  River,  a  hundred  and 
twenty-five  miles  away,  among  the  hot  springs  of  the  Little 
Salmon  River.  In  the  party  were  Mr.  and  Mrs.  James  Cle- 
ment of  Ontario,  Hon.  A.  K.  Steunenberg,  Hon.  P.  A.  Devers, 
Mr.  Henry  Dorman,  Pard,  and  myself  from  Caldwell ;  we  also 
had  several  helpers  and  a  Chinese  cook.  The  first  night 
out  the  cook  ran  away,  but  we  drove  on  to  Emmettsville  for 
breakfast,  and  incidentally  to  hunt  a  new  cook,  but  just  as  we 
were  getting  a  bit  discouraged  in  the  quest,  China  John  came 
in  sight,  with  his  blankets  on  his  shoulders,  declaring  that  we 
had  run  away  from  him.  It  mattered  not  who  had  run  away, 
he  was  there  and  stayed  close  in  camp  thereafter.  The  country 
was  beautiful  and  grew  more  majestic  as  we  climbed  up  into  the 
mountains.  The  little  travelled  road  led  through  thirty-one  fords 
of  the  Weiser  River.  Its  bed  was  full  of  rocks  and  big  boulders 
and  at  the  seventeenth  crossing  the  front  axle  of  the  camp  wagon 
broke  amidstream,  and  a  messenger  had  to  go  back  twenty  miles 
to  get  a  wagon  to  carry  the  load  ashore,  while  another  messenger 
made  a  two  days'  trip  to  bring  a  new  axle.     The  only  bridge  on 


528         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


the  road  was  so  bad  that  one  of  the  horses  went  through  it  and 
only  strategic  work  saved  the  animal  from  being  killed.  Then 
we  got  off  the  road  late  one  afternoon  with  the  alternative  of 
going  over  a  steep  mountain  with  teams  and  loads,  or  going  back 
and  making  a  circuit  of  ten  miles  on  good  road.  Old  moun- 
taineers as  we  were  we  chose  the  unwise  way  of  a  new  route  in  a 
strange  country,  and  we  had  an  unforgettable  time  of  it.     We 

reached  the  sum- 
^^^  mit  without  very 
serious  trouble, 
but  the  other  side 
was  nearly  twice 
as  steep,  making 
a  perilous  journey 
down  to  the  val- 
ley road.  The 
horses  were  un- 
hitched and  led 
circuitously,  the 
wagon  was  un- 
loaded, and  the 
outfit  rolled  down 
those  three  thou- 
sand almost  per- 
pendicular feet  as 
if  on  a  toboggan, 
and  the  wagon 
and  carriages 
were  let  down 
with  ropes,  with 
all  the  men  acting  as  brake  blocks  to  hold  them  steady.  We  had 
been  told  that  there  was  a  cabin  about  a  mile  up  the  valley  where 
we  could  have  a  good  hot  supper,  so  some  went  ahead  that  it 
might  be  waiting  for  the  others  as  a  reward  for  a  strenuous  after- 
noon. But  the  only  sign  of  life  about  that  cabin  was  an  old 
gray  cat.  Padlocks  were  on  the  doors,  and  from  what  we  could 
see  through  the  windows  it  was  not  an  inviting  place  to  dine  in. 
On  going  back  to  see  our  inside  and  outside  comforts  rolled  down 
the  mountain,  it  looked  as  if  we  might  live  on  "Hibernian  con- 
fusion" for  some  days,  and  it  was  eleven  o'clock  at  night  before 


Pat  Devers  escapes  a  warm  hug" 


Pot-Pourri 


529 


John  Chinaman  could  give  us  a  "cold  handout"  by  the  light  of 
a  spitting  candle,  for  at  that  particular  spot  there  were  neither 
trees  nor  sage-brush.  Once  at  our  destination,  the  situation 
was  ideal ;  hot  springs  by  the  half  acre,  cold  springs  for  domestic 
use,  a  river  full  of  fish,  and  the  woods  full  of  large  game.  It  was 
a  woodsman's  paradise,  with  cool  breezes  sighing  through  the 
pines  and  a  joyous  content  permeating  every  heart,  while  old  Sol 
continued  to  keep  the  pot  boiling  in  the  lower  valleys.  The  men 
caught  plenty  of 
trout,  killed  deer 
and  badgers  and 
other  small 
game,  but  the 
prize  catch  was 
a  black  bear, 
whose  glossy 
robe  adorns  the 
floor  as  I  write, 
a  vivid  reminder 
of  Pat  Devers's 
agility  in  climb- 
ing a  tree  when 
the  wounded 
monster  got 
after  him. 

While  we  were  ^ 
camping  in 
Little  Salmon  ^f- 
Meadows  a 
party  of  prospec- 
tors passed  our  camp  who  had  experienced  some  of  the  wildest 
travelling  that  we  had  yet  heard  of.  At  one  place  they  were  stuck 
in  the  canyon  of  Salmon  River,  and  had  to  build  a  windlass, 
with  which  they  hoisted  their  burros  a  distance  of  one  hun- 
dred and  sixteen  feet  to  the  rocky  ledge  above.  One  animal 
was  lost  by  rolling  off  a  narrow  ledge  over  a  precipice.  It  was 
exploring  in  earnest. 

Leaving  the  town  of  Caldwell  in  1888  was  a  most  pathetic 
incident  in  our  frontier  lives.     The  friends  who  had  struggled 
for  the  upbuilding  of  the  town  and  the  opening  of  the  College  of 
34 


They  hoisted  their  burros  a  hundred  and  sixteen  feet " 


530        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Idaho,  had  woven  themselves  into  our  affections  as  only  people 
do  who  suffer  and  endure  the  hardships  of  pioneering  together. 
When  our  Sunnyside  home  was  dismantled  it  meant  a  great  deal 
to  those  whom  we  left  behind.  They  said  they  felt  like  a  company 
of  militia  without  a  commanding  officer,  but  there  were  excel- 
lent people  there  for  carrying  on  the  good  work,  and  they  did  it, 
and  Caldwell  has  taken  her  place  as  the  second  best  town  in  the 
State,  with  a  college  second  to  none.     It  is  an  offspring  of  which 

we  are  justly  proud, 
and  the  good  work  still 
goes  on. 

The  mention  of  even 
the  names  of  those 
southern  Idaho  towns 
touches  the  most  sen- 
sitive chords  of  our 
hearts,  and  our  ears 
hear  a  rhythmic  mel- 
ody of  names,  places, 
and  events  that  will 
ever  hold  us  enthralled. 
The   sadness  and   un- 

Our  party  had  left  the  hot  Boise  Valley  for  the    happmess,    the    stren- 
shade  of  the  pines  u  o  u  s    life,     and    the 

disappointments  may 
be  forgotten ,  but  the  old  friends  hold  us  with  loving  fetters  that 
cannot  be  severed. 

There  seems  no  better  way  of  illustrating  the  daily  life  and 
duties  of  pioneer  work  than  to  insert  a  few  letters  bodily  as  they 
were  written  to  my  mother  during  the  life  in  Caldwell,  for  it  is 
largely  from  the  many  letters  to  her  that  I  have  been  enabled  at 
this  date  to  put  these  pages  into  the  present  form. 

Caldwell,  September  loth. 
Dear  Ones  at  Home: 

Well,  there  was  just  one  of  the  funniest  things  happened  the  night  of 
the  boys'  party  that  you  can  imagine.  You  know  by  experience  here  how 
much  I  entertain,  and  when  there  are  no  out-of-town  guests  there  are  always 
plenty  of  town  guests.  Mr.  Caldwell  and  his  daughter  Minnie  have  been 
here  for  some  days,  as  I  wrote  you  they  would  be,  and  with  Mate  and 
Louise  here,  too,  I  have  been  kept  pretty  busy  entertaining  for  them.  "Our 
boys"  downtown  thought  to  do  a  real  courteous  thing  by  giving  a  party  for 


Pot-Pourri  531 

our  guests.  The  preparations  went  gaily  on,  and  they  were  feeling  quite 
jubilant.  Pard  and  Mr.  Caldwell  had  to  go  away,  but  the  ball  and  banquet 
were  to  go  on  just  the  same.  The  day,  the  night,  and  the  hour  of  the  young 
men's  triumph  came,  and,  in  their  full-dress  suits,  two  or  three  of  them  came 
over  after  us.  Imagine,  if  you  can,  their  chagrin  when  they  were  brought  in 
where  we  sat  busily  at  work  on  our  embroideries  or  reading,  with  no  evidence 
of  a  party  in  prospect.  We  knew  of  nearly  everything  that  had  been  done,  but 
in  their  zeal  they  had  utterly  neglected  to  mention  the  matter  to  us,  and  we 
feigned  entire  ignorance  of  the  party.  We  had  not  been  consulted  or  even 
invited;  but  they  were  so  humiliated  and  crestfallen  that  we  hurried  into  party 
gowns  and  were  taken  forth.  Mr.  Devers  says  he  has  a  faint  spell  every 
time  he  thinks  of  that  night,  and  none  of  those  young  men  will  forget  that 
lesson  in  gallantry. 

Neighbor  Magee  had  a  house  warming  a  few  nights  ago,  when  their  new 
house  was  finished.  They  invited  a  large  party  and  the  dance  went  merrily 
on  until  the  hour  for  good  folks  to  be  at  home,  and  the  musicians  wanted  their 
pay.  Mr.  Magee  had  conveniently  gone  out  before  the  party  was  over  and 
failed  to  return ;  so  Mrs.  Magee  asked  Pard  and  one  other  guest  to  pay  the  bill, 
and  they  would  be  reimbursed,  but  everybody  laughed,  for  they  knew  it  was 
just  a  trick  of  James  Magee's  to  get  out  of  paying  his  fiddlers,  but  that  was 
only  one  of  the  least  of  Mr.  Magee's  little  jokes. 

On  our  way  home  from  Chicago  we  went  up  to  Hailey  to  settle  some 
trouble  of  long  brewing  in  the  Alturas  Hotel,  which  was  opened  up  a  few  months 
ago.  The  manager  was  in  a  lot  of  trouble  over  unpaid  bills,  and  it  was  neces- 
sary to  put  in  a  new  man.  Things  were  piping  hot  there  the  day  of  our  arrival, 
and  there  was  a  broil  not  noted  on  the  bill  of  fare.  The  proprietor  had  so  far 
lost  his  dignity  as  to  get  into  a  fist  fight  with  his  cook,  and  his  wife  had  gotten 
into  a  scramble  with  the  waiters,  and  the  day  ended  by  a  lien  being  served 
on  the  dinner  after  the  hotel  guests  were  seated  at  the  table. 

The  evening  paper  came  out  with  scare  headlines  about  Pard  having 
kicked  the  manager  out  of  the  hotel  for  not  paying  his  debts.  Pard  had  re- 
quested that  absolutely  nothing  be  said  about  the  transfer,  as  both  the  manager 
and  his  wife  were  already  in  a  temper  akin  to  insanity,  but  both  Editor  Picotte 
and  his  assistant  loved  a  sensation,  and  they  could  not  resist  this  temptation 
to  hit  somebody,  and  the  result  was  that  the  irate  landlord  went  gunning  for 
the  newspaper  man  and  for  Pard.  He  rushed  madly  through  the  streets  with 
his  wife  goading  him  on  as  she  hung  half  way  out  of  an  upper  window  at  the 
hotel,  calling  him  a  coward  and  other  vile  epithets,  and  declaring  that  she  would 
come  down  and  shoot  "the  bunch"  if  he  did  n't.  Fortunately  Pard  was  in 
the  dining-room  with  me,  and  the  hotel  man  found  the  editorial  assistant  first. 
Mrs.  Moore  called  again,  "There  he  is,  there  he  is,  you  coward,  why  don't 
you  shoot?  "  Then  three  shots  rang  through  the  air;  one  bullet  went  through 
Mr.  Russel's  neck  and  buried  itself  in  the  brick  casement  of  the  hotel  door, 
another  one  whizzed  past  the  head  of  the  landlord's  own  little  daughter  and 
struck  Russel  in  the  groin ;  then  it  went  aroimd  imder  the  skin  in  his  back,  where 
it  was  too  easily  extracted. 

Russel  fell  just  inside  of  the  hotel  door.  The  frenzied  assailant  was 
captured,  disarmed,  and  taken  to  the  court  house  just  across  the  street.     I 


532         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

was  nearly  scared  to  death,  for  I  was  always  afraid  of  his  wife;  her  temper  was 
ungovernable  at  all  times. 

Pard  tried  to  prove  to  me  that  the  man  was  not  looking  for  him,  by  taking 
me  over  to  the  jail  to  talk  to  the  prisoner.  Of  course  he  denied  it,  but  I  went 
away  as  unconvinced  as  before,  and  that  night  every  available  piece  of  furniture 
and  one  mattress  of  our  bed  was  packed  against  our  bedroom  door  at  the  hotel. 
I  never  closed  my  eyes  the  whole  night,  but  Pard  slept  like  a  baby.  The  trial 
will  not  take  place  until  it  is  known  whether  the  wounds  prove  fatal,  and  we 
were  more  than  glad  to  get  away  from  there  for  a  few  days. 

We  have  begun  our  rehearsals  for  the  "Peak  Sisters"  in  which  I  am 
"Jerushy,"  with  all  the  trimmings  of  a  New  England  old  maid,  with  short 
side  curls.  We  are  also  having  some  singing  classes  here  this  week  that  are 
taking  a  lot  of  time.  Sister  Hattie  is  getting  initiated  into  the  strenuous 
r61e  of  my  ever  increasing  duties,  and  while  she  is  having  a  good  time  I  think 

she  would  rather  be 
back  attending 
clinics  and  her  pro- 
fessional duties  than 
to  have  a  life  like 
mine. 

Next  time  I  write 
I  will  tell  you  about 
"He  ran  all  over  the  pasture  with  the  pig  squealing  at  the  new    dog,    for 
every  jump  "  really  the  dog  is  an 

unexpected  enter- 
tainer. He  got  a  pig  out  of  the  pen  in  the  back  lot,  took  it  by  the  ear, 
and  ran  all  over  the  pasture  with  the  pig  squealing  at  every  jump, 
until  the  man  had  to  lariat  the  pig  and  horsewhip  the  dog  to  stop  the  concert ; 
but  that  is  only  one  of  the  dog's  many  accomplishments.  When  Father  sent 
us  this  canine  prodigy  he  did  not  tell  us  of  the  dog's  merrymaking  propensities; 
it  increases  his  value  wonderfully.  So  far  he  kisses  the  hand  of  every  tramp 
and  tries  to  devour  every  friend. 

Lovingly  yours, 

Dell. 


Caldwell,  June  20,  '86. 
My  Dear  Ones  at  Home  : 

Since  I  came  home  this  time  I  am  nearly  heartsick  and  discouraged.  I  do 
not  often  allow  myself  such  expression,  as  you  know,  and  I  presume  this  season 
of  depression  will  soon  pass.  I  do  not  dare  give  way  to  any  one  but  you,  for 
Robin  would  take  me  away  from  here  too  quick  if  he  knew  it.  I  know  he 
should  not  leave  here  now,  and  I  must  renew  my  courage. 

One  of  the  new  ministers  here,  of  another  denomination,  has  made  his 
threats  to  have  our  Presbyterian  Church  buried  inside  of  a  year.  He  is  espe- 
cially bitter  toward  me,  because  his  daughter  is  one  of  my  dearest  and  best 
friends  and  is  a  strong  working  member  of  our  church  society.  It  is  but  natu- 
ral jealousy  because  she  is  not  working  in  his  church.     His  son  is  also  a  de- 


Pot-Pourri  533 


voted  and  generous  friend  of  ours,  and  of  course  it  irritates  the  father  to  have 
his  children  allied  to  other  interests  than  his.  He  has  told  on  the  street  what 
things  he  is  going  to  say  to  me.  I  know  it  is  only  his  wounded  pride  that  spurs 
him  on  to  do  disagreeable  things,  and  I  try  to  be  patient  with  him,  for  I  know 
how  badly  his  conduct  hurts  his  own  children.  While  I  was  away  he  called 
on  Rev.  Boone  and  made  overtures  to  him  to  get  possession  of  our  church; 
said  his  church  would  take  it  and  finish  it  and  allow  us  to  hold  services 
there,  but  his  church  would  not  hold  services  in  our  building  which  shows 
a  nigger  in  the  fence  somewhere.  One  thing  is  sure,  if  he  buries  our  church  he 
will  bury  it  alive.  I  suppose  ministers  are  as  full  o/  human  nature  as  the  rest 
of  us,  but  somehow  we  always  expect  them  to  be  better  examples  of  their 
profession. 

I  have  taken  a  bad  cold,  and  it  is  especially  unfortunate  while  we  have 
this  concert  in  hand.  I  sit  here  with  a  bottle  of  goose-grease,  a  bottle  of  ink, 
and  one  of  ammonia,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  think  I  dip  my  pen  into  each 
one  in  turn  by  the  way  I  am  writing  to-day:  some  black  thoughts,  some 
oiled  over,  and  some  caustic,  if  not  witty. 

Every  one  in  town  is  telling  me  what  to  do  for  my  cold,  and  I  am  trying 
all  prescriptions  at  once  to  hasten  results. 

There  was  a  funny  thing  happened  at  the  Railroad  Hotel  this  week.  Cole's 
Circus  was  in  town,  and  it  brought  in  the  country  folks  by  the  hundred.  Some 
of  them  are  pretty  well  off  in  this  world's  goods  now,  and  took  rooms  at  the 
hotel,  but  they  are  not  up  to  date  in  improvements.  The  usual  card  is  beside 
the  bell  button  in  the  rooms: 

1  push     Bell  boy 

2  "        Ice  water 

3  "       Hot  water 

A  woman  pushed  the  button  several  times,  then  held  her  finger  on  it  until 
everybody  down  in  the  office  went  mad  and  the  proprietor  himself  went  up- 
stairs three  steps  at  a  bound.  He  is  an  old  German,  and  he  thought  the  house 
was  on  fire;  he  did  not  knock,  but  threw  the  door  open  and  saw  a  girl  standing 
with  a  glass  under  the  enunciator  waiting  for  the  water  to  run  out.  Manager 
Kluinspies  grabbed  her  hand  from  the  bell  and  said:  " Mein  Gott  in  Himmel, 
vat  you  tink  you  do?  De  whole  house  go  crazy  mad  mit  dat  bell.  You  tinks 
maybe  dot  you  hold  your  apron  up  dar  maybe  you  get  a  boy  come  in  your 
apron,  too,  eh?  You  stops  ringing  dat  bell;  I  send  you  some  vater,  but  I  go 
take  de  beer  myself, "  and  he  went  shuffling  down  the  stairs  to  a  lobby  of  wait- 
ing guests  who  had  been  listening  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  trouble.  He  had  not 
a  generous  nature,  and  for  once  they  enjoyed  drinking  the  beer  at  his  expense. 

Events  have  crowded  in  pretty  thick  for  the  past  week  or  two  and  I  am 
glad  to  have  a  day  or  two  of  quiet  rest.  When  we  began  dropping  off  the 
literary  work  for  the  railroad  company  we  thought  to  be  able  to  accomplish 
other  things  in  the  open  air  and  enjoy  more  freedom,  but  it  was  a  mistake. 
The  duties  devolving  upon  us  in  this  field  are  both  arduous  and  irksome  in 
spite  of  our  ever  trying  to  see  only  the  bright  side. 

To  build  a  church  with  ten-cent  pieces  takes  a  long  time,  and  I  sometimes 
feel  like  an  old  slave-owner's  overseer  who  followed  the  slaves  with  a  black- 
snake  whip  to  keep  them  in  line.     Only  that  I  have  to  use  the  whip  on  myself 


534         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

to  keep  my  friends  in  good  cheer  and  not  become  discouraged.  To-day  the 
church  society  met  here,  and  we  made  and  tied  two  comforters  and  button- 
holed the  edges,  and  they  are  ready  to  add  to  our  work  for  the  fair  this  fall. 

We  are  working  on  the  "Laborer's  Song"  this  week  and  it  is  good.  In  our 
wax  works  we  are  to  have  Pard  working  the  pump  to  irrigate  desert  land.  Mr. 
Beatty  and  I  sang  the  "Gypsy  Countess"  and  the  "Gobble"  song  in  costume 
at  a  concert  last  week,  and  had  reason  to  feel  that  they  were  a  success,  for  we 
had  several  encores. 

We  were  disappointed  in  ice  to  freeze  the  cream  for  a  social  last  week,  and 
we  asked  Mr.  Devers  to  mp,ke  the  rounds  of  the  saloons  for  us,  which  he  very 
kindly  did,  but  we  did  not  get  a  pound  of  ice,  and  we  were  in  a  bad  plight; 
so  Mrs.  Henry  Blatchley  and  I  followed  on  his  trail  and  we  induced  the  liquor 
men  to  let  us  have  seventy-five  pounds  of  ice  as  a  loan  until  the  already  late 
freight  should  get  in.  I  doubt  not  that  would  be  called  "tainted"  ice  back 
there,  but  on  the  border  land  we  do  not  draw  those  fine  lines. 

I  do  not  think  you  will  wonder  any  more  why  I  do  not  get  lonesome  and 
homesick  myself  with  three  such  very  good  reasons:  first  of  all,  my  good  hus- 
band; second,  work  without  ceasing;  and  third,  the  annual  pass  in  my  pocket 
that  will  take  me  away  whenever  I  want  to  go. 

But  with  all  the  demands  on  me  I  keep  up  my  vocal  studies,  and  such  posi- 
tions as  we  have  to  fill  here  demand  the  best  that  is  in  us  at  all  times.  I  know 
we  are  developing  in  ways  that  we  would  not,  if  so  much  did  not  depend  upon 
us  in  both  planning  and  executing.  So  long  as  you  keep  well  at  hom.e  I  can 
get  along  beautifully. 

Lovingly  yours, 

Dell. 


CHAPTER   XXXIX 

SOME  NIGHTS  OF  ADVENTURE.      STRATEGIC  MOVES  OF 
TOWNSITE  WORK 


T  was  necessary  to  make 
a  number  of  trips 
down  through  the 
Payette  valley  and 
even  as  far  west  as 
Weiser.  The  Oregon 
Short  Line  Company 
did  not  want  to  run 
into  the  old  town  of 
Weiser  on  account  of  its  being  a  mile  to  one  side  and  Pard  located 
a  new  townsite.  It  was  a  move  bitterly  opposed  by  the  old 
town,  and  the  stakes  of  the  survey  would  be  pulled  up  at  night 
every  time  they  were  set  for  the  new  town,  and  no  one  in  Weiser 
dared  openly  be  a  friend  to  the  change.  Pard  himself  did  not 
approve  of  the  location  but  the  engineer  bitterly  opposed  Pard's 
original  selection  which  best  suited  the  people,  and  it  was 
abandoned. 

Scenting  danger  of  bodily  harm  to  Pard,  I  insisted  on  making 
a  night  trip  with  him  and  a  surveyor  who  were  going  to  do  some 
locating  by  moonlight.  The  ride  was  a  glorious  one,  and  all 
went  well  until  we  reached  the  Payette  ranch  of  Mr.  Jim  Cle- 
ment. There  we  stopped  for  supper  and  a  change  of  horses, 
but  the  only  available  team  was  one  belonging  to  a  man  named 
Thorp,  who  was  a  dealer  in  wild  and  fractious  cayuses.  The 
team  brought  out  for  our  use  was  only  partly  hooked  up  to  the 
surrey,  when  they  broke  away,  and  for  all  I  know  are  running 
yet.  I  saw  them  dash  away  and  eagerly  asked  Mrs.  Clement  to 
show  me  the  way  to  the  barn,  as  I  feared  some  one  might  be 
hurt.  Her  reply  was  so  explicit  and  so  full  that  I  was  stupefied 
for  a  second  or  two,  and  gazed  at  her  rather  wildly  as  she  said: 

535 


536         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

"Just  go  right  out  through  the  kitchen  door,  over  the  wood  pile, 
climb  the  fence,  and  go  down  through  the  slough ;  you  can't  miss 
it  if  you  follow  the  trail."  Goodness  me!  what  a  route,  but  she 
had  described  the  way  accurately,  and  the  several  cords  of  sawed 
wood  that  blocked  the  kitchen  door  were  indeed  a  formidable 
barrier,  but  I  climbed  up  and  rolled  down  and  ran  on  with  my 
bruises,  just  laughing  so  that  I  could  scarcely  climb  the  fence  or 
see  my  way.  Bless  her  dear  old  heart,  she  was  as  calm  in  her 
reply  as  if  she  had  opened  the  stable  door  itself  for  me. 

Fortunately  no  one  was  hurt  by  the  cavorting  bronchos,  but 
we  were  glad  they  ran  away  without  our  conveyance.  The  only 
other  team  then  was  a  span  of  colts  belonging  to  Mr.  Clement  and 
they  were  so  unruly  under  any  other  handling  than  his  own  that 
he  went  along  to  handle  the  ribbons.  There  was  a  bad,  rocky 
ford  of  the  Payette  River,  and  just  as  we  started  out  on  the  farther 
bank  a  tug  broke,  and  only  the  hypnotic  suasion  of  our  good 
driver  prevented  more  serious  trouble.  The  colts  cavorted 
around  until  they  broke  the  wagon  tongue,  but  Mr.  Clement's 
kindly,  quieting  voice  soon  subdued  them,  and  we  were  ulti- 
mately extricated  from  that  sad  predicament  to  get  into  a  rail- 
road tie  camp  that  was  more  difficult  to  get  out  of  than  any 
maze  of  evergreens  or  mirrors  could  equal.  The  destination, 
however,  was  at  last  reached  about  midnight,  where  the  only 
signs  of  life  were  given  by  seven  vicious  dogs. 

The  house  at  which  we  stopped  was  built  against  a  side  hill 
around  the  mouth  of  a  cave  and  it  looked  as  if  built  as  a  fortress 
against  any  Indian  or  other  enemy  who  might  attack  the  place. 
The  man  himself  was  a  man  of  courage  and  strong  will  to  do  what 
his  conscience  dictated  to  be  right,  and  when  he  had  a  clear  un- 
derstanding of  the  conditions  he  became  a  loyal  helper  of  Pard's, 
but  on  this  occasion  there  was  no  such  thing  as  rousing  him. 
Calls  loud  and  long,  coaxing,  pounding  on  the  door  or  giving  our 
own  names  did  no  good,  and  only  the  howling,  yelping  dogs  made 
answer  and  showed  their  anger  at  the  intrusion.  Word  had  been 
sent  to  him  of  this  prospective  visit,  but  he  had  not  received 
it,  and  later  he  explained  that  he  sat  up  in  bed  and  listened 
but  would  not  allow  himself  to  be  inveigled  out  of  his  cavern 
fortress,  as  he  believed  we  were  a  lot  of  Weiserites  who  had  come 
to  do  him  bodily  harm.  It  was  with  great  reluctance  that  the 
trip  was  made  backward  without  accomplishing  anything.     We 


Strategic  Moves  of  Townsite  Work       537 

reached  the  Clement  ranch  again  at  four  a.m.,  where  we  had  a 
few  hours'  rest,  then  started  on  home  hoping  to  get  there  before 
dark. 

It  was  Thanksgiving  Day  and  to  one  raised  in  good  old 
Illinois  it  was  a  day  sacred  for  one's  nearest  and  dearest  friends 
only  to  gather  at  the  home  fireside,  but  the  hour  came  when  the 
horses  at  least  must  be  fed  and  rested  even  if  we  could  not  get 
anything  for  ourselves,  so  at  the  first  promising  looking  ranch 
we  made  our  wants  known.  There  was  a  well-filled  granary, 
stacks  of  fine  hay,  numberless  chickens,  and  other  evidences  of 


The  town  of  Caldwell  lifted  its  head  from  the  white  alkali  of 
the  Boise  valley  " 

good  living  for  both  man  and  beast,  and  we  drove  into  the  wide 
open  gate  with  great  expectations. 

An  old  rancher  came  in  sight,  who  looked  as  if  he  had  been 
there  since  time  began,  and  all  his  sweetness  of  temper  had 
been  absorbed  by  a  laborious  life  not  in  harmony  with  his  de- 
sires. He  said,  however,  that  he  would  give  the  horses  all  they 
could  eat,  but  he  could  n't  give  us  "nothin'."  He  added  by  way 
of  explanation  that  his  "wife  had  such  a  gol  durn  headache  that 
she  could  n't  get  nothin'  for  nobody."  It  certainly  looked  as  if 
we  were  not  going  to  be  thankful  for  any  dinner  on  that  all- 
thanks  day,  for  he  would  not  be  bribed  to  build  a  fire  in  his 
kitchen  and  let  me  prepare  something,  or  even  go  himself  and 
bring  out  a  little  cold  bite  for  us.  At  last  in  my  most  persuasive 
voice  I  told  him  that  I  had  some  excellent  headache  powders, 
and  that  I  might  relieve  his  wife's  headache  if  he  would  let  me 


538         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

go  to  her.  His  face  brightened  like  a  sunbeam,  and  without 
hesitation  he  added:  ''Well,  b'  gosh,  if  you  can  I  '11  go  right 
out  and  catch  four  chickens  that  '11  be  a  fryin'  inside  o'  ten 
minutes."  He  took  long  strides  across  a  clean  white  floor  as  we 
followed  him  into  the  house,  and  we  heard  him  say:  " Mother, 
here  's  a  woman  what  is  going  to  cure  your  headache  for  some 
dinner."  The  powders  worked  wonderfully  well  with  her  and 
I  kept  her  very  quiet  for  a  little  while,  but  when  I  heard  the 
chickens  squawk,  I  gave  her  another  powder. 

The  old  man  cared  for  the  horses  and  came  in  with  a  couple  of 
fine  broilers  dressed  and  ready  for  the  pan,  and  by  the  time  the 
teakettle  began  to  sing  the  good  old  housewife  was  preparing  us 
a  dinner  fit  for  a  king. 

Until  the  town  of  Caldwell  lifted  its  head  from  the  white 
alkali  of  the  Boise  valley  to  beckon  commerce,  the  ranchmen  had 
to  pay  an  exorbitant  toll  across  the  Boise  River  bridge  to  get 
into  Boise  City  with  their  farm  products.  One  of  Caldwell's 
earliest  enterprises  was  to  build  a  free  bridge  at  its  town  door, 
but  it  was  ever  a  curious  study  how  to  reach  and  enlist  the  in- 
terest of  some  of  those  old  ranchers  who  were  so  set  against 
civilization. 

This  now  happy  old  man  began  to  think  about  a  good  dinner 
that  he  himself  might  have  when  we  were  gone,  and  he  tilted 
his  chair  back  against  the  wall,  pulled  one  leg  up  over  the  other 
by  a  boot  strap  while  he  chewed  the  end  of  a  stick  with  a  spas- 
modic action  of  the  jaw,  and  formulated  in  his  mind  a  regular 
catechism  ready  to  spring  on  Pard  at  the  proper  moment.  But 
Pard  also  had  a  rather  fetching  way  of  talking  when  he  found 
one  of  this  man's  tendencies,  and  the  subject  of  the  new  town 
and  bridges  was  quickly  introduced,  and  the  exorbitant  tolls 
that  had  to  be  paid  were  discussed.  The  old  fellow  said:  "It 's 
mighty  hard  on  us,  and  when  we  's  takin'  our  crops  in  and  hev 
to  go  a  spell  o'  times,  it  takes  about  all  we  git,  seems  like,  to  pay 
the  toll.  But,"  he  added,  "if  we  go  down  to  that  there  new 
town  o'  Caldwell,  we  have  a  durned  hard  time  too  a-fordin'  the 
river,  its  so  cursed  rocky,  and  my  horses  don't  like  it  a  bit,  but  I 
reckon  the  town  hain't  much  good  nohow."  Pard  could  n't 
stand  such  a  thrust  at  the  new  metropolis  and  hastened  to  ex- 
plain how  soon  the  new  free  bridge  would  be  completed  and  then 
all  trouble  would  be  over.     "Well,  well,  maybe,  maybe,"  said 


Strategic  Moves  of  Townsite  Work       539 

our  doubting  benefactor,   "but  my  horses  don't  like  bridges 
nuther,  nope,  nope." 

We  left  the  box  of  headache  powders  for  future  attacks,  and 
after  generously  apologizing  for  our  intrusion  on  such  a  sacred 
day,  we  turned  away ;  but  as  Pard  gathered  up  the  lines  the  old 


"It  was  a  perilous  moment  and  an  imfortunate  hour" 

man  came  up  close  to  the  carriage  and  said,  "Why,  this  hain't 
Sunday,  stranger,  its  only  Thursday,  so  I  reckon  we  can  laugh 
at  you  for  calling  this  here  the  '  sacred  day ' " ;  but  when  he  learned 
it  was  Thanksgiving  Day,  he  plunged  his  hands  down  deep  in  his 
pockets,  and  as  we  drove  away  we  heard  him  exclaim:  "Well, 
I  '11  be  gosh  darned.     I  '11  just  go  and  tell  Ma." 

Darkness  is  a  long  time  settling  down  over  southern  Idaho, 


540         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

but  when  it  does  come,  as  it  did  that  cloudy  night,  it  is  like  a 
blanket  over  one's  head;  it  is  a  darkness  absolutely  impenetrable 
by  the  human  eye.  We  travelled  rapidly,  but  in  spite  of  all  haste 
we  could  not  see  across  the  river  when  we  reached  the  fording 
place.  The  building  of  the  new  bridge  was  directly  over  the  old 
ford  and  the  crossing  had  to  be  made  very  cautiously  even  in 
broad  daylight.  When  we  reached  there  we  could  no  longer  see 
a^andmark  on  the  opposite  shore  as  a  guide.  There  were  no 
homes  anywhere  near  the  crossing  on  either  side  of  the  river  and 
the  town  was  a  mile  away.  The  stream  had  risen  considerably 
since  we  had  crossed  it  in  the  early  light  of  the  day  before,  and 
we  gave  a  loose  rein  to  the  horses  to  choose  their  own  way  across. 
But  unfortunately  they  tried  to  go  on  both  sides  of  a  huge 
boulder  which  caught  the  wagon  tongue  and  broke  it  again 
where  it  had  been  mended  after  the  crossing  of  the  Payette 
River.  One  horse  got  into  a  hole  and  frightened  the  other, 
and  in  their  fiounderings  the  tugs  got  loose ;  then  before  we  could 
tell  just  what  was  happening  the  horses'  heads  appeared  over  the 
dashboard  with  their  faces  almost  touching  our  own.  The 
water  was  pouring  into  the  box  of  our  carriage  and  we  were 
drawing  ourselves  up  onto  the  seat  when  we  so  nearly  bumped 
noses  with  the  horses.  It  was  an  apparition  not  soon  to  be  for- 
gotten. It  was  a  perilous  and  unfortunate  hour.  The  bridge 
builders'  camp  was  midway  between  their  work  and  the  town, 
and  it  did  not  seem  possible  to  make  them  hear  our  cries  of 
distress. 

Pard  did  so  much  yelling  in  the  Sioux  war  that  he  has  never 
been  able  to  give  a  good  lusty  yell  since,  but  he  did  help  to  swell 
the  call  that  night  as  I  had  never  heard  him  do.  It  seemed  an 
age  before  we  saw  the  little  glimmering  lights  of  lanterns  moving 
in  swift  irregularity  toward  our  water  prison,  but  the  men 
grasped  the  situation  quickly  when  once  they  were  at  the  river, 
and  the  work  of  rescue  began. 

Two  men  plunged  into  that  ice- water  up  to  their  necks,  and 
got  the  horses  out,  while  others  laid  a  long  plank  from  the 
bridge  piles  to  the  carriage  up  which  I  had  to  crawl  to  the 
stringers  and  thence  grope  on  hands  and  knees  over  that  black 
torrent  to  shore.  I  never  could  have  done  it  in  the  daytime,  but 
the  extreme  darkness  hid  the  water  from  sight  and  saved  me 
from  dizziness. 


Strategic  Moves  of  Townsite  Work       541 

The  carriage  was  pulled  out  and  the  broken  parts  tied  to- 
gether, and  we  were  sent  on  the  home  run  with  hearts  fuller  of 
thanksgiving  than  they  had  ever  been  before.  We  had  been 
away  about  forty  hours,  and  most  of  that  time  in  the  carriage — 
had  one  runaway,  broke  down  twice,  and  were  rescued  from  a 
watery  grave.  It  was  much  to  be  thankful  for,  and  there  were 
two  glad  hearts  when  we  spied  the  lights  in  our  own  little 
cottage. 

A  little  while  after  the  Thanksgiving  trip  Pard  had  to  go 
again  over  that  same  route,  but  he  succeeded  so  well  in  allaying 
my  fears  that  I  did  not  have  a  thought  of  foreboding  when  he 
drove  away.  I  knew  Jack  Wells,  the  Canyon  County  sheriff, 
who  went  with  him,  and  he  was  such  a  tower  of  bravery  and 
strength  that  he  could  control  almost  any  condition  that  might 
arise.  I  did  not  know  that  the  Weiserites  had  threatened  to 
carve  Pard  into  small  pieces  if  he  dared  to  show  himself  down 
there,  and  for  that  very  reason  he  did  dare,  and  hurried  to  get 
there. 

On  the  night  in  question  Pard  and  Jack  Wells,  with  two 
other  nervy  individuals,  went  to  a  point  a  little  south  of  Weiser  to 
endeavor  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  the  new  Weiser  station 
and  other  new  buildings  which,  it  had  been  reported,  would  be 
attempted  by  a  Weiser  mob  bent  upon  wiping  out  their  enter- 
prising rival  which  was  getting  well  under  way  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  station. 

Arriving  unexpectedly  a  few  hours  after  dark,  this  little  party 
discovered  that  a  state  of  panic  prevailed,  which  had  practically 
already  driven  out  and  scattered  the  small  population  of  what  a 
few  days  before  had  promised  to  be  a  very  busy  and  attractive 
little  town.  However,  one  faithful  lieutenant  was  left  who  had 
been  spying  out  the  land  in  the  direction  of  the  old  town  of 
Weiser  during  the  day.  He  communicated  the  startling  news 
that  the  final  raid  would  undoubtedly  be  made  upon  the  new 
town  that  night,  and  it  would  mean  the  burning  of  the  build- 
ings which  remained  there,  and  a  possible  similar  fate  for  the 
occupants. 

In  going  over  the  ground  as  carefully  as  could  be  done  in  the 
darkness,  it  was  determined  that  the  small  band  of  defenders, 
consisting  of  only  these  five  men,  should  form  a  first  line  in  the 
sage-brush  a  short  distance  in  front  of  the  row  of  houses  forming 


542         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


the  main  street,  and,  if  pressed  too  hard,  they  would  later  on 
retreat  into  a  railroad  cut  near  the  station,  and  under  that  good 
defence  make  a  final  stand. 

Sometime  after  midnight  the  noise  of  a  band  of  horses  ap- 
proaching from  the  direction  of  Weiser  grew  very  distinct,  and, 
as  they  drew  near,  their  peculiar  formation  and  movements  con- 
vinced the  little  party  lying  in  wait  that  it  was  not  horses  but  a 
band  of  cattle  being  driven  by  the  mob,  who  thus  sought  to  hide 

their  approach  until 
they  were  immedi- 
ately on  the  spot,  or 
to  deceive  the  def end- 
e  r  s  regarding  the 
number  in  the  mob, 
hoping  the  tramp  of 
the  cattle  would  be 
mistaken  for  a  cav- 
alcade of  horsemen. 
However,  i  t  trans- 
pired that  the  cattle 
//"  '^^  y^l^^fSF'M^^K^Kl^9^  were  a  little  unruly 
jP  ,^  ij^^W^^w  r^^KBf^^  and  soon  described 
f    '^'       ^W^  *  lirlla      ^  flanking  movement 

over  in  the  direction 
of  the  railroad  cut 
referred  to,  which 
led  the  besiegers  to 
change  their  plans 
and  advance  under 
cover  of  the  herd 
upon  the  nearby  railroad  station  first.  Our  five  defenders 
lost  no  time  in  making  tracks  obliquely  for  the  railroad  cut, 
reaching  that  almost  invincible  position  just  about  as  the  cattle 
discovered  them  and  stampeded  off  in  an  entirely  different  direc- 
tion, leaving  the  mob  uncovered  a  few  rods  away  in  an  open 
plain  from  which  the  sage-brush  had  been  cleanly  cut,  placing 
them  at  a  decided  disadvantage  as  they  were  silhouetted  against 
a  now  bright  moonlit  sky.  Although  they  plainly  outnumbered 
the  defenders  ten  to  one,  the  latter  proposed  to  make  up  in 
bluff  and  the  merits  of  their  position  and,  after  firing  one  volley 


Jack  Wells 


Strategic  Moves  of  Townsite  Work       543 

to  apprise  the  besiegers  of  their  intention,  Jack  Wells's  voice 
rang  out  loud  and  clear:  "Say,  fellers,  that  little  volley  was  a 
joke,  but  if  you  don't  git  out  for  Weiser  in  a  second  we  '11  turn 
loose  fifty  repeaters  and  there  '11  be  none  left  to  git!"  and  they 
got. 

But  the  opposition  to  the  new  location  continued  so  great 
that  the  railroad  company  finally  compromised  and  located 
on  the  spot  chosen  by  Pard  at  the  outset  and  where  the  new 
town  of  Weiser  now  flourishes. 

There  was  no  end  to  the  plotting,  counter-plotting,  and  trial 
of  Pard's  wits  in  the  townsite  drama.  It  was  Pard  against  the 
field  with  thrilling,  often  dangerous,  and  sometimes  ludicrous 
incidents  attached.  One  of  these  more  funny  cases  was  along  in 
the  summer  of  '86.  Pard  and  I  were  in  Hailey  for  a  few  days 
trying  to  get  a  settlement  on  some  titles.  There  was  one  Judge 
A.  P.  Turner,  who  was  injecting  all  the  complications  in  his 
power,  and  it  reached  Pard's  ears  that  the  Judge  was  going  to 
make  a  special  trip  to  Boise  to  prevent  John  Hailey  signing  the 
deeds  and  papers  that  Pard  was  insisting  on  having  to  clear  cer- 
tain lands  around  Hailey.  The  old  Judge  was  therefore  sur- 
prised to  find  us  taking  the  same  train  en  route  to  Caldwell,  as 
the  judge  believed.  He  chatted  more  or  less  with  Pard  all  day, 
and  finally  all  went  to  bed  in  the  Pullman  sleeper,  each  wondering 
what  mischief  the  other  was  bent  on. 

The  stage  line  ran  into  Boise  then  from  a  point  called  Kuna 
just  a  few  miles  east  of  Nampa.  The  judge  got  up  and  snorted 
about  the  car  and  watched  Pard's  berth  very  critically,  but  he 
saw  no  one  moving,  so  he  got  off  at  Kuna  with  a  great  sense  of 
relief  that  at  all  events  Pard  was  not  to  take  the  stage-coach 
with  him  for  Boise.  But  Pard  was  playing  his  own  game,  and 
when  the  train  began  to  move  again  he  hurried  into  his  clothes 
and  had  the  conductor  stop  the  train  for  him  at  Nampa,  which 
was  not  yet  a  regular  station.  Pard  jumped  off  the  train 
with  the  night  so  black  he  could  not  see  his  own  length  ahead  of 
him.  He  stood  near  the  track  until  the  train  went  on,  when 
he  heard  footsteps  and  a  voice  to  guide  him  to  a  team  that  was 
waiting  there  to  take  him  to  Boise.  The  driver  made  those  poor 
horses  fairly  fly  over  that  trackless  prairie  land,  for  they  had 
some  distance  to  go  in  making  a  cutoff  to  strike  the  stage  road, 
and  as  the  steaming  horses  entered  the  suburbs  of  Boise,  after 


544         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  thirty  mile  drive,  day  was  just  breaking,  and  back  on  the 
horizon  rose  a  long  wave  of  dust  that  told  where  the  stage-coach 
was  creeping  in  behind  them. 

Regardless  of  the  unholy  hour,  Pard  went  at  once  to  John 
Hailey's  home  and  got  him  out  of  bed  to  sign  those  papers. 
When  it  was  finally  done  Pard  said  to  Mr.  Hailey  that  Judge 
Turner  was  in  town  and  would  be  around  pretty  soon,  possibly 
to  make  an  early  call  and  dissuade  the  signing  of  those  papers 
but  guessed  he  would  be  too  late  this  time.  The  Honorable  John 
was  not  a  little  surprised  and  he  said:  "But,  bygonnes,  Stra- 
horn,  how  did  you  get  here  first?"  "Bygonnes"  was  Mr. 
Hailey's  favorite  word,  and  whether  he  meant  it  for  a  swear 
word  or  not,  I  always  liked  to  hear  him  say  it  as  he  gave  it  three 
distinct  syllables. 

Judge  Turner  arrived  at  the  hotel,  took  a  nap,  had  a  bath, 
and  a  very  late  breakfast,  then  as  he  sauntered  out  into  the 
office  of  the  old  Overland  Hotel  his  eyes  fell  on  Pard  who  was 
reading  the  morning  paper.  He  stepped  up  and  put  his  hand  on 
the  paper  and  said,  "My  God,  Strahorn,  what  are  you  doing 
here?  I  thought  you  went  to  Caldwell.  "  "Oh,"  said  Pard,  "I 
just  had  a  little  business  up  here  first  but  I  'm  going  down  there ; 
here  's  my  team  now.  Good  morning,  Judge,  pleasant  time 
to  you."  The  Judge  was  so  completely  outwitted  that  when  he 
went  back  to  Hailey  he  went  at  once  to  his  mine,  and  it  was 
weeks  before  he  went  to  town  again. 


CHAPTER   XL 

ONTARIO,  OREGON.    HOLDING  UP  THE  OVERLAND  TRAIN 
FOR  A  DANCE 

^^;^f^<^<!mf^^^  Good  Book  tells  us 
^'^''  '  '^iL  that  God  made  the  world 
3^*'  out  of  nothing,  but  the 
town  of  Ontario  emerged 
from  sand  clouds.  The 
native  soil  that  had  so 
long  clung  around  the 
sage-brush  roots  and  bunchgrass  fibres  had  but  to  be  once  dis- 
turbed and  it  was  then  like  the  tide  of  the  sea  in  its  ceaseless 
motion.  There  was  no  other  place  to  compare  with  it  for  dust, 
and  as  house  after  house  and  business  blocks  began  to  peep 
through  the  rifts  of  sand  the  feet  of  pedestrians  were  clogged 
to  their  shoe  tops,  and  progress  was  slow.  There  was  no 
such  thing  as  daintily  dressed  boots  outside  of  one's  own 
door,  and  a  shoe  brush  or  clothes  brush  hung  on  many  a  front 
door  knob  as  a  gentle  hint  not  to  carry  the  dirt  inside. 

But  wherever  a  town  is  needed,  obstacles  to  its  success 
seem  but  spurs  to  the  ambition.  Chicago  rose  from  pestilential 
swamp  lands  to  the  second  city  in  America;  Seattle  was  cloven 
hoofed  by  adobe  mud,  and  smothered  in  fog  and  pelting  rains, 
its  seven  hills  were  steep,  slippery,  and  seemingly  unsiu*mountable, 
but  like  Rome,  its  hills  have  melted  into  rolling  landscape  beau- 
ties, and  a  marvellous  city  crowns  their  summits.  The  same  pio- 
neer spirit  does  it  all  and  Ontario,  with  its  weight  of  sand,  is 
rising  in  the  same  marvellous  way,  and  its  streets  gleam  in  their 
adamant  hardness.  And  now,  as  if  a  special  Providence  were 
rewarding  the  citizens  for  their  years  of  dust  laden  sufferings,  oil 
and  gas  have  been  revealed  lying  in  the  substrata  of  the  locality, 
and  a  second  Pittsburg  may  yet  make  eastern  Oregon  as  famous 
for  illuminating  products  as  Pennsylvania. 
35  545 


546         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

When  the  townsite  was  first  located  and  platted,  Pard  and 
Jim  Clement  opened  up  a  lumber  yard,  the  same  as  Pard  and 
G.  J.  Wilder  had  done  at  Caldwell,  for  lumber  and  hardware  are 
the  first  requisites  of  a  town.  Jim  Clement  is  the  very  bone  and 
sinew  of  Ontario  to  this  day.  A  man  upright,  honest,  and  honor- 
able, whose  word  is  as  good  as  his  bond,  a  veritable  rough  dia- 
mond whose  value  ever  glints  through  the  unpolished  but  tender 
surface.  As  an  old  resident  of  the  Payette  valley,  his  knowledge 
of  the  people  and  the  lands  was  invaluable.  He  was  a  royal 
entertainer  in  his  own  home,  with  never  any  pretence  of  any- 
thing but  his  own  natural,  big-hearted  self.  He  would  bring  out 
his  old  dulcimer  and  trip  the  sticks  over  the  strings  as  only  one 
can  do  who  loves  the  rhythm  and  harmony  of  music. 

Soon  after  our  experience  at  his  house  on  the  farm,  when  the 
team  ran  away,  he  was  greatly  bereaved  by  the  loss  of  his  wife, 
for  home  life  was  all  in  all  to  him  with  his  wife  and  little  daughter. 
About  the  time  of  the  opening  of  the  new  town  Jim  learned  that 
an  old  sweetheart  was  then  a  widow.  Away  back  in  war  time 
they  were  engaged  to  be  married,  but  fate  was  unkind  to  them, 
letters  were  lost,  and  they  drifted  apart  with  aching  hearts, 
and  each  had  married,  but  now  that  both  were  free  again  their 
hearts  bounded  with  the  old  love,  and  after  twenty  years  they 
were  to  be  wedded.     The  whole  West  is  full  of  such  romance. 

When  Jim  went  East  to  be  united  to  this  first  love,  he  started 
out  under  most  disheartening  circumstances.  The  train  that 
was  to  bear  him  away  was  many  hours  late,  there  was  as  yet 
no  depot  at  Ontario,  and  a  number  of  waiting  passengers  held 
down  the  chairs  and  the  neversweat  bench  in  Fred  Keisel's 
general  merchandise  store.  Outside  the  storm  blew  and  banked 
the  snow  in  giant  drifts. 

Among  those  in  waiting  was  a  woman  with  two  small  children, 
and  when  the  approaching  train  finally  blew  its  long  whistle, 
Mr.  Clement  took  a  child  under  each  arm  and  with  his  grips  in 
hand  made  a  dash  out  of  the  back  door,  which  opened  toward 
the  track.  The  night  was  dark  and  starless  and  he  had  hardly 
started  across  lots  through  a  woodyard  to  the  station  when  he 
tripped  and  fell,  spreading  his  six  feet  four  as  far  as  possible,  and 
fairly  burying  the  two  children  in  the  snow.  The  snowstorm 
had  been  the  worst  ever  known  in  eastern  Oregon  and  paths  had 
not  yet  been  established  when  the  night   closed  down.     He 


Holding  up  the  Overland  Train  547 

reached  the  station  all  out  of  breath  with  a  crying  baby  under 
each  arm  and  it  somewhat  dampened  his  ardor  for  matrimony 
when  the  mother  berated  him  for  his  carelessness  in  a  manner 
that  nearly  broke  his  heart.  He  handed  over  the  infants  and 
went  limping  into  the  car  before  he  learned  that  in  the  fall  he 
had  torn  his  trousers  most  disreputably,  but  the  time  was  set 
for  his  nuptials,  the  train  was  moving,  and  he  snuggled  into  a 
seat  to  wait  for  something  more  to  happen.  He  could  not 
meander  through  the  cars  nor  go  out  at  any  station,  and  when 


Jim  Clements  starts  through  the  snow  to  the  station 


Pard  got  aboard  the  train  at  Caldwell,  the  man  with  rent 
trousers  gave  a  shout  of  joy.  It  was  not  until  they  reached 
Green  River  City  in  Wyoming  that  a  tailor  and  his  goose  blended 
the  tattered  garment,  during  which  time  the  owner  of  it  was 
stowed  away  in  bed  in  a  lean-to  back  of  the  shop.  That  hap- 
pened when  passengers  from  the  Northwest  had  to  transfer  at 
Green  River  to  the  main  line  of  the  Union  Pacific,  and  had  several 
hours  to  wait  between  trains. 

The  first  hotel  in  Ontario  was  built  by  O.  W.  Scott,  a  patri- 
archal old  California  pioneer,  who  was  happiest  amidst  sand 
dunes  and  howling  coyotes.     His  wife  was  one  of  those  patient, 


54^  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

hardworking  women,  one  of  many  such  who  have  worked  with- 
out rest  or  reward  in  the  development  of  the  great  West. 

The  first  night  we  spent  at  the  hotel  Scott  the  partitions  had 
not  yet  been  put  in,  and  our  bed  was  curtained  off  in  a  corner. 
In  the  morning  the  kitchen  stove  smoked  furiously.  Daddy 
Scott  cleaned  the  stove,  readjusted  the  pipe,  and  went  up  on  the 
roof  and  added  another  joint  of  flue,  but  all  to  no  purpose.  His 
wife  with  streaming  eyes  and  lungs  choked  with  smoke  was  do- 
ing her  best  to  get  some  breakfast,  while  seated  closely  around, 
endeavoring  to  keep  warm,  and  getting  more  or  less  in  the  way  of 
the  good  housewife,  were  a  dozen  hungry  wayfarers.  At  last  in 
sheer  despair  the  old  man  stepped  back  a  few  feet  from  the  stove, 
quite  overcome  by  his  wife's  distress,  and  his  own  futile  efforts  to 
relieve  her.  His  long  white  beard  quivered  with  emotion,  and 
plunging  his  hands  deep  into  his  trousers  pockets  he  raised  his 
eyes  to  the  chimney  hole  and  exclaimed:  "Well,  smoke!  smoke! 
old  God,  smoke!!"  and  without  another  word  or  a  smile  he 
turned  and  went  out  of  the  house.  He  named  his  hotel  "The 
Palace,"  and  the  opening  day  was  a  gala  one  long  to  be  remem- 
bered. He  sent  invitations  broadcast  to  come  to  the  merry- 
making of  the  celebration. 

The  Caldwell  people  sent  down  twenty  representatives,  not 
counting  the  cornet  band.  The  sun  was  just  giving  its  first 
light  to  the  sky  when  the  town  was  awakened  by  the  thrilling 
tones  of  "The  Star  Spangled  Banner"  by  the  seventeen  wind  in- 
struments, and  people  of  the  new  town  jumped  from  their  beds  as 
if  it  had  been  Gabriel's  trumpet.  There  was  but  the  one  train  a 
day  each  way,  and  Caldwell  people  had  to  spend  the  whole  day 
on  the  sand  fiat.  It  was  a  happy  day  for  dust  laden  Ontario, 
but  it  was  a  long  time  for  the  Caldwellites  to  wait  with  no  other 
guests  in  sight  for  the  promised  ball.  Many  were  skeptical 
about  any  one  else  coming,  and  some  wished  themselves  home, 
but  they  all  met  with  surprise  soon  after  noon  when  dust  began 
to  rise  all  around  the  distant  horizon  and  a  moving  mass  of 
humanity  began  closing  in  on  the  town. 

Only  a  few  years  before  a  frontiersman  would  have  declared 
himself  encircled  with  Indians  who  were  closing  in  on  him  from 
all  directions.  It  was  a  favorite  trick  in  the  redman's  mode  of 
attacking  a  weak  party  to  shut  off  all  escape.  But  the  millennium 
of  peace  had  come,  and  two-  ,  four-  ,  and  six-  horse  loads  were 


Holding  up  the  Overland  Train  549 

drawn  up  from  different  directions,  all  kinds  of  vehicles,  car- 
riages, farm  wagons,  and  buckboards,  and  many  a  lad  and  lass 
on  horseback.  Some  of  them  came  seventy-five  miles,  and  the 
majority  came  not  less  than  forty. 

Mrs.  Scott  began  wondering  how  she  could  care  for  them,  and 
knowing  her  little  kitchen  stove  was  far  too  small,  it  was  taken 
down  and  carried  over  to  Mr.  Clement's  house.  There  they 
found  a  woman  ironing,  but  the  large  steel  range  was  taken  down 
and  carried  over  to  the  hotel,  with  all  the  fire  in  it,  and  the  little 
one  left  in  its  place  without  even  asking  any  one's  permission. 
Mr.  Clement's  face  beamed  with  his  big,  bright  smile  when  some 
one  told  him  about  it  and  he  cheerily  replied:  "Why,  that 's 
the  way  we  do  out  here  and  they  can  have  every  gol  durned 
thing  I  've  got." 

Dancing  began  at  six  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The  youth, 
beauty,  wit,  and  wealth  of  eastern  Oregon  were  there  three  hun- 
dred strong.  The  supper  was  delayed  because  the  number  was 
so  great  that  poor  Mother  Scott  was  at  her  wits'  end  to  know 
how  to  provide  for  so  many.  The  train  to  carry  the  people  back 
to  Caldwell  and  the  East  was  momentarily  expected,  and  when 
it  did  come  the  supper  had  just  been  announced.  A  delega- 
tion went  over  and  found  that  genial  old  conductor.  Patsy 
Kinney,  in  charge  of  the  train,  and  invited  him  and  his  crew 
over  to  share  the  midnight  feast,  and  have  a  dance  or  two,  and 
they  came  to  a  man,  leaving  the  two  hundred  transcontinental 
passengers  to  wonder  and  question  why  the  delay  was  so  long. 
Patsy  Kinney  is  still  running  on  the  road  and  he  could  tell  you 
what  a  royal  good  cook  Mother  Scott  was  and  how  the  maids  of 
Oregon  held  his  crew  in  the  merry  dance  until  the  morning 
blushed  at  the  train's  delay. 

Merchants  did  not  lock  their  stores  when  they  went  home  to 
the  noonday  meal,  and  when  questioned  about  it,  one  of  them 
said  that  people  there  might  not  be  too  lazy  to  steal,  but  they 
would  be  too  lazy  to  carry  anything  away;  but  I  resented  the 
impeachment,  for  no  lazy  man  could  live  in  Ontario  in  those  days. 

Theo.  Danielson  left  Caldwell  when  the  town  got  out  of  long 
clothes  and  moved  on  to  the  newer  town  of  Ontario  and  opened 
still  another  store.  From  his  store  at  Blackfoot,  where  he  had 
a  front  and  back  entrance  large  enough  for  cowboys  to  ride 
their   ponies    through,    he  seemed  to  have  the  "Call    of  the 


55^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Wild"  ever  ringing  in  his  ears,  and  he  kept  up  the  "Westward 
Ho"  until  there  were  no  more  wilds  to  enter.  His  patient  and 
courageous  wife  could  tell  many  a  wild  and  thrilling  story,  for 
she  has  borne  a  large  family  amid  such  distressing  and  for- 
lorn conditions  that  my  own  experiences  are  as  fairy  tales  in 
comparison. 

Father  Scott  being  the  first  important  settler  of  Ontario  was 
made  postmaster  and  the  post-office  was  made  of  a  cracker  box 
about  two  feet  long  and  fourteen  inches  high.  The  returns  for 
the  first  quarter  of  the  year  were  just  forty-eight  cents.     The 

genial  patriarch 
was  sometimes 
inclined  to  be 
profane,  and  he 
said  if  the  post- 
office  increased  in 
trouble  as  it  pro- 
mised to  increase 
in  size,  he  did  not 

want     a    d 

thing  to  do  with 
the  concern. 

The  hotel  cel- 
ebration was  on 
Thanksgiving 
Day  of  '85;  it 
was  a  red  letter  day  in  the  history  of  Ontario,  and  the  last 
holiday  of  its  kind  for  quaint  old  Father  Scott,  who  soon  after 
lost  a  foot  by  amputation,  and  then  went  back  to  his  old  Califor- 
nia hills  to  die. 

To-day  Ontario  has  its  green  lawns,  its  beautiful  shade  trees, 
solid  business  blocks,  and  pretty  homes,  and  its  paved  streets 
no  longer  choke  the  populace  with  their  rising  dust  clouds. 

Those  times  are  all  forgotten  save  by  the  few  who  are  left 
of  those  days  of  the  earlier  *8o's.  Some  still  gather  on  the  old 
neversweat  bench  to  whittle  and  gossip,  some  have  risen  to 
affluence,  and  some  have  moved  to  other  lands,  and  many  have 
gone  to  their  last  resting  place,  but  the  town  grows  on  and  has 
already  merged  into  a  crowning  glory  for  eastern  Oregon. 

The  towns  of  Hailey,  Shoshone,  Mountain  Home,  Caldwell, 


She  has  borne  a  large  family  amid  such  distressing 
conditions  " 


Holding  up  the  Overland  Train  551 

the  new  Payette,  and  the  new  Weiser  in  Idaho,  and  Ontario  in 
Oregon,  are  not  only  past  their  babyhood,  past  the  teething 
season,  but  they  are  out  pf  their  teens  and  have  reached  the  age 
of  dignity,  affluence,  and  power.  They  are  our  children  of  which 
we  are  justly  proud.  If  some  of  them  are  slower  in  develop- 
ment and  slower  in  reaching  the  age  of  charm  and  affluence,  they 
wiU  yet  make  for  themselves  a  name  and  a  place  in  this  great 
western  field  of  commerce,  when  the  great  waterways  of  our 
country  carry  sufficient  nourishment  to  them.  They  have  all 
caused  us  many  heartaches,  many  tears,  and  many  unhappy 
days,  but  we  found  much  joy  and  happiness  in  the  association 
and  development. 

In  trying  to  promote  the  good  of  others  we  developed  every 
talent  that  lay  within  ourselves,  and  as  they  grew,  we  too  grew 
stronger  and  more  self-reliant,  and  more  helpful  to  them.  There 
were  many,  even  the  multitude,  and  some  who  were  near  to  me 
who  thought  my  life  one  round  of  pleasure:  that  it  was  ideal 
to  fflt  about  and  promote  entertainments,  to  build  churches  and 
schools,  to  keep  house  without  a  servant,  and  have  a  hospitable 
board  for  every  lonely  individual :  to  help  every  one  in  trouble, 
and  carry  an  unbroken  smile  and  a  glad  hand  at  all  times.  I 
never  realized  so  fully  how  much  I  did  not  know,  as  when  I  be- 
gan to  be  called  upon  for  such  endless  instruction  as  fell  under  my 
supervision.  To  record  the  heartaches  and  discouragements 
threading  through  the  pioneer  days  would  deprive  these  pages 
of  the  romance  of  the  experience,  and  the  reader  might  lose 
sight  of  the  marrow  of  joy  that  always  accompanies  a  life  of  use- 
ful work.  I  can  always  bring  a  tear  to  my  own  eye  when  my 
mind  dwells  on  some  of  the  unhappy  experiences,  but  I  am  not 
prone  to  linger  on  the  dark  side  of  life,  for  I  love  the  sunshine  and 
gladness,  and  keep  myself  in  it  whenever  possible.  The  loca- 
tions that  we  platted  have  changed  conditions  under  the  magi- 
cian Time,  and  in  some  places  we  are  almost  forgotten,  but  it  is 
only  just  that  they  who  continued  the  upbuilding  of  the  new 
commonwealth  shotdd  be  uppermost  in  the  minds  of  to-day. 
The  present  generation  of  the  West  does  not  know  what  an  old 
Concord  stage-coach  looks  like,  and  when  they  look  up  smilingly 
into  happy  faces  of  loved  ones  everywhere  about  them,  they  are 
spared  the  desolation  of  life  when  no  familiar  face  beams  back  into 
one's  eyes,  or  when  even  strange  faces  are  few  and  far  between. 


CHAPTER  XLI 
ALASKA 

1  Q  Q  Q  was  Presidential  year 
and  Pard  wanted  to 
attend  the  conven- 
tion at  Chicago  which 
nominated  President 
<^'W^^^^^^^^^  Harrison.  The  Union 

Pacific  Company 
wanted  him  to  go  East  and  they  also  wanted  him  to  go  to 
Alaska,  so  they  compromised  by  asking  me  to  go  to  Alaska, 
instead  of  him,  and  it  resulted  in  several  weeks'  separation. 
However,  several  friends  were  to  make  the  trip  from 
Chicago,  including  my  sister  and  her  husband  and  daughter 
Louise  and  it  was  arranged  that  we  should  go  together. 

We  were  fairly  appreciative  of  the  wealth  and  wonders  of 
Uncle  Sam's  domain;  at  Niagara,  we  gloried  in  the  belief  that 
all  the  cataracts  of  other  lands  were  tame.  In  Yellowstone,  the 
world's  other  wonders  seemed  commonplace;  and  at  Yosemite's 
Inspiration  Point,  the  unspeakable  thrill  of  awe  and  delight  was 
richly  heightened  by  the  grand  idea  that  there  was  no  such 
majesty  and  glory  beyond  either  sea.  But  after  all  this,  it  re- 
mained for  the  Alaskan  trip  to  rightly  round  out  one's  appre- 
ciation and  admiration  of  the  extent  and  grandeur  of  our  native 
land. 

Some  of  our  most  delightful  voyageurs  to  the  West  on  this 
trip  were  from  Portland,  Maine.  When  they  had  journeyed 
fifteen  hundred  miles  to  Omaha,  they  imagined  themselves  at 
least  half  way  across  our  continent.  When  they  finished  that 
magnificent  stretch  of  seventeen  hundred  miles  more  from  Omaha 
to  Portland,  Oregon,  in  the  palace  cars  of  the  Union  Pacific,  they 
were  quite  sure  of  nearing  Land's  End.  They  confessed  a  sense 
of  mingled  dissatisfaction  when  they  learned  that  they  were  yet 

552 


Alaska  553 

less  than  half  way,  for  it  is  a  fact  that  the  extreme  west  coast  of 
Alaska  is  as  far  west  of  Sitka  or  Portland  as  Portland,  Oregon, 
is  west  of  Portland,  Maine,  and  that  San  Francisco  lacks  four 
thousand  miles  of  being  as  far  west  as  Uncle  Sam's  "  Land's  End" 
in  western  Alaska. 

Alaska,  was  a  country  great  enough  to  contain  a  river — the 
Yukon — larger  than  the  Mississippi,  and  a  coast  line  twice  as 
long  as  that  of  all  the  United  States;  a  country  twelve  times  as 
large  as  the  State  of  New  York,  with  resources  that  astonish 
every  visitor,  and  a  climate  not  altogether  as  bad  as  some  would 
have  it.  During  the  eighteen  years  it  had  been  linked  to  oiu* 
chain  of  Territories,  it  had  been  treated  like  an  outcast  and  cared 
for  more  by  others  than  its  lawful  protector.  But  like  many  a 
refugee  it  was  carving  for  itself  a  place  which  others  might  yet 
envy. 

The  voyage  was  like  a  continuous  dream  of  pleasure,  so  placid 
and  quiet  were  the  waters  of  the  land-locked  sea,  and  so  exqui- 
sitely beautiful  the  environments.  The  route  runs  along  the  east 
shore  of  Vancouver  Island,  through  the  Gulf  of  Georgia,  John- 
ston Strait,  and  out  into  Queen  Charlotte  Sound,  where  the 
first  swell  of  old  ocean  was  felt,  and  our  staunch  steamship  Elder 
was  rocked  in  its  sea  cradle  for  four  hours.  At  times  we  seemed 
bound  in  by  mountains  on  every  side,  with  no  hope  of  escape; 
but  the  faithful  deck  officer  on  watch  would  give  his  orders  in 
ftill,  firm  tones  that  brought  the  bow  to  some  passage  leading  to 
the  great  beyond  as  if  guided  by  a  magic  hand.  In  narrow 
straits  the  steamer  had  to  wait  for  the  tide ;  then  would  she  weave 
in  and  out  like  a  shuttle  in  a  loom  among  the  buoys,  leaving  the 
black  ones  on  the  left  and  the  red  ones  on  the  right,  and  ever  and 
anon  they  would  be  in  a  straight  line  with  the  wicked  boulder- 
heads,  visible  beneath  the  surface  or  lifting  their  savage  points 
above,  compelling  at  times  an  almost  square  corner  to  be  turned 
in  the  weaving.  At  such  exciting  hours  the  passengers  were 
all  on  deck,  listening  to  the  captain's  commands,  and  watching 
the  boat  obey  his  bidding. 

The  first  point  of  interest,  Fort  Wrangel,  like  all  Alaska  towns 
was  situated  at  the  base  of  lofty  peaks  along  the  water's  edge  at 
the  head  of  a  pretty  harbor.  It  was  the  generic  home  of  storms, 
and  the  mountains,  the  rocks,  the  buildings,  and  trees  all  show 
the  weird  workings  of  Nature's  wrath.     In  1863  it  was  a  thriving 


554         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


town  where  miners  outfitted  for  the  Stickeen  River  and  Cassion 
mines  of  British  Columbia  but  that  excitement  had  temporarily 

subsided,  and  the  $150,000 
Government  buildings  were 
falling  in  decay.  The  streets 
were  filled  with  debris  and 
everything  betokened  the 
ravages  of  time. 

The  first  American  flag 
was  raised  in  Fort  Wrangel 
by  Edward  Leudecke  in  1867, 
when  the  first  U.  S.  troops 
were  on  their  way  to  Sitka  and 
Mr.  Leudecke  is  still  living. 

In  Indian  mythology  all 
created  beings  descend  from 
the  bird,  fish,  toad,  bear,  or 
wolf,  and  each  has  its  in- 
fluence upon  the  descendant. 
To  the  wolf  ancestors  are  at- 
tributed all  the  features  of 
cunning  and  the  sly  charac- 
teristics of  their  warriors  in 
battle  or  in  outwitting  their 
fellows  in  times  of  peace.  The 
bear  indicates  power  and 
strength  and  muscle.  The 
eagle  is  a  leader,  one  who 
migrates  and  travels  far.  The 
frog  descendants  are  savants 
and  philosophers.  Those  who 
are  from  the  raven  are  crafty, 
wise,  and  full  of  intrigue.  The 
whale  denotes  a  clan  of  plenty 
of  food,  who  live  well  and 
peaceably.  The  salmon  indi- 
cates ambition  and  desire  to 
achieve.  The  seal  gives  grace 
and  willowy  motion  and  en- 
Totem  poles  at  Wrangel  dows    its    descendants    with 


Alaska 


555 


charms  and  occult  powers,  and  the  duck  gives  a  phlegmatic,  even 
temperature,  a  command  of  seas,  and  a  charmed  life  in  waters. 
The  totem  pole  is  made  to  illustrate  the  "blue  blood"  of  the 
tribe  and  there  is  no  race  of  people  so  proud  of  its  genealogy  as 
the  Indian.  An  Indian  crest  is  the  symbol  of  his  origin  and  it 
is  the  mark  of  subdivisions  of  the  tribe  into  social  clans  that  are 


Copyrighted  by  Fanny  Van  Duyn 

An  Indian  honeymoon 

closer  and  more  rigid  than  even  tribal  union.  Indians  of  the 
same  crest  never  intermarry  and  when  a  squaw  marries  into  a 
distant  tribe  her  children  go  back  to  her  own  people.  It  is  not 
unusual  to  find  an  Indian's  crest  on  everything  that  belongs  to 
him  from  his  canoe  to  his  household  kettle,  and  it  is  the  foundation 
and  the  cap  sheaf  of  the  totem  poles  of  all  the  Alaskan  Indians. 
The  most  grotesque  totem  poles  seen  on  the  trip  were  in 
Wrangel,  some  as  high  as  fifty  feet.  These  poles  represented  the 
history  of  the  family  and  the  ancestry  as  far  back  as  it  could  be 
traced.  If  they  are  of  the  wolf  tribe,  a  huge  wolf  would  be  carved 
at  the  top  of  the  pole,  and  then  on  down  with  various  signs  to 
the  base  of  the  pole  are  recorded  the  great  events  of  the  family 


556        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


and  the  intermarriages,  not  forgetting  to  give  place  to  the  good 
and  bad  gods  who  assisted  them.  The  genealogy  of  a  tribe  is 
always  traced  back  through  the  mother's  side.  The  totem  poles 
are  sometimes  very  large,  perhaps  four  feet  at  the  base,  and  have 
been  known  to  cost  $2000.  When  the  carving  is  completed  they 
are  planted  firmly  in  front  of  the  family  hut,  there  to  stay  until 

they  decay  and  fall 
away.  At  the  base, 
some  four  feet  from 
the  ground,  there 
is  often  an  opening 
into  the  already 
hollowed  pole,  and 
in  this  are  put  the 
bones  or  ashes  of 
the  burned  bodies 
of  the  family. 
It  is  only  the 
wealthier  families 
who  support  a  to- 
tem pole,  and  any 
amount  of  money 
could  not  induce 
an  Indian  to  part 
with  his  family 
tree. 

The  graves  of 
those  not  having 
totems  are  found  in  clusters,  or  scattered  on  the  mountainsides, 
or  anywhere  convenience  dictates.  The  bones  of  some  are  put  in 
a  box  with  all  the  belongings  of  the  deceased,  and  then  deposited 
in  some  convenient  place. 

There  are  other  methods  of  disposing  of  the  dead  in  different 
parts  of  Alaska.  The  bones  are  sometimes  put  in  a  canoe  and 
raised  high  in  the  air  on  straddles,  or  in  trees  above  the  reach  of 
prowling  animals,  or  set  adrift  on  the  sea  in  a  discarded  canoe. 
Sometimes  the  body  of  an  Indian  is  sewed  in  the  skin  of  a  wild 
animal  and  set  adrift  on  the  sea  in  his  own  canoe. 

The  natives  are  exceedingly  superstitious  and  jealous  in 
their  care  of  the  dead  and  would  sooner  die  than  molest  or  steal 


The  medicine  man 


Alaska  557 

from  a  grave.  That  tourists  who  are  supposed  to  be  civilized, 
refined,  and  Christianized  should  steal  from  them  is  a  crime  which 
should  never  be  tolerated  as  it  was  among  the  passengers  of  the 
steamer  Elder  at  that  time,  and  the  most  atrocious  act  was  com- 
mitted by  a  minister  from  San  Francisco.  He  not  only  robbed 
the  graves  of  a  deserted  village  but  at  other  places  he  traded  off  a 
lot  of  worthless  watches  and  jewelry  for  valuable  furs,  and  when 
the  natives  followed  him  to  the  ship  after  they  had  learned  of 
the  deception  they  made  loud  lamentations  and  demands  for  the 
return  of  the  furs,  but  they  were  not  allowed  on  shipboard  and 
the  Christian  representative  hid  himself  from  view  tmtil  the  ship 
was  under  sail  again. 

The  natives  have  a  belief  that  the  soul  of  anybody  who  is 
cremated  returns  in  the  form  of  a  raven,  and  that  accounts 
for  the  endless  number  of  these  birds  in  Alaska.  Ravens 
and  crows  are  sacred  birds  to  them  and  are  never  mo- 
lested. 

Leaving  Wrangel,  the  steamer  anchored  off  Salmon  Bay  to 
lighten  eighty  tons  of  salt  for  the  fishermen;  then  on  to  Juneau 
and  Douglas  Islands.  Here  was  the  same  general  appearance  of 
location,  the  gigantic  background  of  densely  wooded  mountains, 
the  tide- washed  streets  on  broken  slopes,  the  dirty  native  women 
with  their  wares  for  sale,  with  prices  advanced  two  hundred  per 
cent,  when  the  steamer  arrived,  and  behind  these  dispensers  of 
handicraft  stood  their  stem  male  companions,  goading  them  on 
to  make  sales,  and  stealthily  kicking  them  in  their  crouched 
positions  if  they  came  down  on  their  prices  to  an  eager  but 
economical  tourist. 

Juneau  was  the  only  town  of  any  importance  on  the  main- 
land. It  had  risen  to  that  dignity  through  the  quality  of  its 
mines,  and  it  was  the  mining  centre  of  Alaska.  The  famous 
Treadwell  mine  was  across  the  bay  on  Douglas  Island.  It 
was  noted,  not  so  much  for  its  richness  per  ton,  as  for  its  vast 
extent.  The  120-stamp  mill  made  such  a  deafening  noise  there 
was  no  fear  that  the  curious  minded  wotild  cause  employes  to 
waste  time  in  answering  questions,  for  nothing  could  be  heard 
but  the  rise  and  fall  of  the  great  crushers  and  the  crunching  of 
the  ores.  The  hole  blasted  by  the  miners  looked  like  a  crater 
for  a  huge  volcano,  and  sloped  down  to  an  apex  from  which  the 
tunnel   was  run  to  the   mill.      The  Treadwell  yielded  about 


558         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


$250,000  per  month,  and  had  the  hope  of  doubHng  that  when 

the  new  mill  was  completed. 

There  were  many  pleasant 
homes  in  Juneau,  and  some 
of  its  society  people  were 
charming  indeed.  The  busi- 
ness houses  carried  large 
stocks  of  goods,  and  outfitting 
for  the  interior  mines  in  the 
Yukon  country  was  all  done 
at  this  place. 

One  of  the  most  novel 
and  grotesque  features  of  the 
entire  trip  was  a  dance  given 
by  the  Indians  at  a  "  pot- 
latch.  ' '  That  term  is  applied 
to  any  assemblage  of  good 
cheer,  although  in  its  primary 
sense  a  potlatch  is  given  at 
the  outset  or  during  the  pro- 
gress of  some  important 
event,  such  as  the  building 
of  a  new  house,  confirming 
of  a  sub-chief,  or  celebrating 
any  good  fortune,  either  of 
peace  or  war.  In  this  in- 
stance a  sub-chief  was  build- 
ing a  new  house,  and  the 
framework  was  enclosed  in 
rough  boards,  but  there  was 
no  floor.  There  is  never  but 
one  entrance  to  an  old  Alas- 
kan Indian  hut.  This  is  in 
front,  and  elevated  several 
feet  from  the  ground,  so  that 
you  must  go  down  from  the 
door- sill  inside  as  well  as  go 
up  from  the  outside.  No 
windows  were  in  the  building 

A  totem  pole  of  the  "  Geo.  W.  Elder"      ^^^  ^^^  smoke  escaped  from 


Alaska  559 

the  fire  through  a  hole  in  the  roof.  These  grand  festivities 
lasted  five  days,  and  this  was  the  end  of  a  merrymaking. 

There  were  two  tribes  at  Juneau  located  at  each  extreme  of 
the  town.  The  water  was  black  with  canoes  coming  to  the  feast 
and  dance,  bringing  gifts  to  the  great  tyhee,  who  in  return  gives 
them  gifts  according  to  their  wealth,  and  a  feast  of  boiled  rice, 
raisins,  and  dog  meat.  The  richest  men  of  the  tribe  dressed  in 
the  rear  of  the  nearby  building  in  the  wildest  and  most  fantastic 
garbs,  some  of  them  in  skins  of  wild  animals.  There  was  a  full 
complement  of  blankets,  feathers,  guns,  swords,  knives,  and  as  a 
last  resort  an  old  broom  was  covered  with  a  scarlet  case  to  be 
whirled  about  in  the  air.  Jingling  pendant  horns  added  to  their 
rattling  accoutrements  and  faces  painted  with  red  and  black  in 
hideous  lines  completed  the  diabolical  adornments.  Anything 
their  minds  could  shape  was  rigged  for  a  head-dress ;  and  finally 
when  all  was  ready  they  ran  with  fiendish  yell  toward  the  beach 
some  twenty  yards  away,  and  there  behind  a  canvas  facing  the 
water  they  began  their  strange  dance.  Only  one  squaw  was 
with  them,  and  she  was  the  wife  of  the  tyhee  (chief)  giving  the 
feast.  The  medicine  men  had  a  large  bird  with  white  breast 
called  the  loon  and  while  dancing  they  picked  the  white  feathers 
and  scattered  them  on  the  heads  of  the  others  as  a  blessing  and 
a  charm  from  evil.  The  squaws  sat  on  the  ground  in  long  rows 
reaching  to  the  water's  edge. 

Their  music  was  a  wild  shout  or  croon  by  all  the  tribe  and  the 
dancing  a  movement  in  high  stepping  and  a  swaying  motion  to 
the  time  given  by  the  voices,  and  they  only  advanced  a  few  inches 
in  an  hoiu"'s  time.  The  peculiar  costumes,  fierce  gestiires,  and 
monotonous  singing  formed  a  scene  of  barbaric  splendor. 

The  tribe  approaching  in  canoes  had  their  representative  men 
dressed  in  the  same  styles,  only  gayer  if  possible.  When  the 
canoes  glided  onto  the  beach,  foiu*  abreast,  it  was  the  signal  to 
drop  the  canvas  hiding  the  host  and  party,  and  advance  a  little 
distance  to  meet  them.  Then  they  broke  ranks,  and  made  way 
for  the  visitors  to  approach  the  house,  with  their  gifts  of  blankets 
or  other  valuables  for  the  tyhee.  Most  of  these  Indians  convert 
their  riches  into  blankets.  Each  held  in  his  hand  a  rattle  which 
he  continuously  shook  to  ward  off  the  evil  spirit.  The  dancing 
continued  until  it  seemed  as  if  they  must  drop  from  exhaustion. 
They  kept  time  to  the  drum  with  violent  jerks,  gestures,  and 


56o        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

motions  of  the  body,  peculiar  attitudes  being  struck  in  concert, 
although  fifty  or  more  persons  were  dancing  at  the  same  time. 
The  whole  assembly  joined  in  the  chanting. 

Louder  and  more  exciting  the  chanting  became,  swifter  the 
motion  of  the  dancers,  and  faster  the  oil  was  poured  upon  the 
burning  heap  of  logs.  With  frenzied  yells  and  whoops,  they 
jumped  into  the  air  and  then  suddenly  crouched  on  the  floor. 
Their   movements  became    more   convulsive,   until  they  were 


A  potlatch  at  Juneau 

hoarse  and  exhausted,  then  they  suddenly  stopped,  the  singing 
ceased,  and  all  eyes  were  directed  toward  the  host  who  rehearsed 
the  traditions  and  history  of  the  tribe. 

A  potlatch  may  also  be  called  a  sort  of  Indian  love  feast,  a 
camp-meeting,  and  a  barbecue  combined,  with  the  important  ad- 
dition that  the  giver's  generosity  goes  far  beyond  feasting  and 
merrymaking  in  lavishing  all  kinds  of  presents  upon  those  who 
are  bidden  to  his  party.  Sometimes  five  or  six  thousand  dollars 
will  be  given  away  at  one  potlatch  and  what  is  not  given  will  be 
taken,  for  the  guests  have  highly  cultivated  ways  of  taking  what 


Alaska  561 

they  can  put  their  hands  on.  In  the  case  of  the  one  we  witnessed 
the  tyhee  continued  to  give  away  everything  he  possessed  even 
to  his  most  valued  canoe — his  hunting  outfit,  all  of  his  personal 
clothing,  every  dollar  and  piece  of  clothing,  and  all  the  food  he 
had,  and  finally  as  a  fitting  climax  he  jumped  up  and  cast  off  his 
last  blanket  leaving  himself  quite  naked. 

The  Indians  at  once  formed  a  circle  aroimd  him  and  began  a 
peculiar  chant  for  he  had  won  the  proud  title  of  Hyas  Tyhee 
(big  chief).  Then  the  whistle  blew  and  Captain  Hunter  said  it 
was  the  end  of  the  potlatch ;  there  was  nothing  more  for  them  to 
eat  and  everything  was  gone  so  they  would  all  soon  leave.  The 
old  squaws  who  had  presided  over  the  stew  kettles  had  turned 
them  upside  down  in  token  of  the  end  and  we  left  them  crooning 
their  gruesome  chants. 

The  natives  seen  by  the  tourists  in  an  ordinary  trip  to  Alaska 
seem  very  much  the  same  all  along  the  western  coast.  None  of 
them  are  poor,  and  many  have  wealth  counted  by  thousands. 
Some  of  them  are  in  a  measure  Christianized,  but  the  odors  arising 
from  the  homes  of  the  best  of  them  are  such  as  a  civilized  nose 
never  scented  before.  Rancid  grease,  dried  fish,  pelts,  decaying 
animals,  and  human  filth  made  the  strongest  perfume  known  to 
the  commercial  or  social  world. 

The  squaws,  when  in  moiu-ning  or  in  love,  painted  their  faces 
black  with  oil  or  tar.  Then  again  a  groat  many  wore  a  wooden  or 
ivory  pin  thrust  through  the  lip  just  below  the  fleshy  part.  It 
was  worn  for  ornament  the  same  as  earrings  or  nose  rings  and 
was  called  a  labret. 

The  Alaskan  braves  and  squaws,  in  common  with  all  human- 
ity, take  pride  in  personal  adornment.  Fashions  differ  among 
the  tribes,  and  those  of  the  Thlinget  are  no  exception  to  the  rule. 
There  are  earrings  of  shell,  bone,  ivory,  and  silver,  which  are  used 
by  both  men  and  women  on  general  social  occasions.  That  the 
artistic  taste  of  the  makers  is  well  developed,  is  proved  by  harmo- 
nious color  combinations.  Greenish  pearl  shells  are  used  for  a 
variety  of  purposes.  Worsted  is  used  for  earrings,  the  skeins  being 
bound  together  with  pieces  of  haliotis  shells  and  hung  down  fully 
two  feet  from  their  ears. 

It  is  in  the  lip  buttons,  however,  that  the  natives  Alaskan 
was  wont  to  let  his  or  her  taste  run  riot.  The  under  lip  was  cut 
at  an  early  age,  and  a  stick  or  wire  inserted,  the  size  of  this  bemg 
36 


562         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

increased  until  the  aperture  sometimes  assumed  the  appearance 
of  a  second  mouth.  Then  a  button  suitably  ornamented  was 
inserted,  the  size  varying  from  one  to  three  inches  in  length. 

The  Thlingets,  in  common  with  all  Alaskan  tribes,  are  great 
gamblers.  They  will  sometimes  pass  whole  days  and  nights 
doing  little  else  and  for  this  purpose  they  have  an  elaborate 
"lay-out." 

The  missionary  work  done  among  them  is  commendable  but 


The  Muir  Glacier  in  1888 

it  seemed  a  hopeless  task.  Native  houses  were  always  built  with 
the  one  object  in  view  of  being  able  to  tie  the  canoe  to  the  front 
door.  A  long  row  of  huts  just  above  high-tide  line  where  food 
is  brought  by  the  tide  to  their  doors,  and  where  the  timbered 
mountains  abound  in  wild  game  is  an  ideal  Alaskan  environment. 

Chilkat,  or  Pyramid  Harbor,  was  about  twelve  hours'  run 
from  Juneau.  The  famous  Chilkat  blanket  is  made  from  the 
mountain  goat's  wool,  woven  by  hand  and  dyed  with  native 
dyes.  There  were  also  two  of  the  largest  salmon  canneries  in 
Alaska. 

From  Chilkat  we  emerged  into  the  ' '  Land  of  the  Midnight 
Sun."  The  hours  passed  quickly  by  as  the  supposed  night  wore 
away.  At  midnight,  the  twilight  was  so  bright  that  one  could 
read  a  newspaper  easily.  Then  the  moon  shone  in  the  clear  sky 
with  all  her  regal  splendor  until  half  past  three  in  the  morning, 
when  old  Sol  again  put  in  his  claims  for  admission.     He  lifted  his 


Alaska  563 

golden  head  above  the  snow  peaks  and  spirited  away  the  un- 
certain light  of  unfolding  dawn  by  drawing  the  curtains  of  the 
purpling  east,  and  sending  floods  of  radiance  upon  the  world. 
It  was  a  sight  never  to  be  forgotten. 

Onward  once  again,  when  the  tide  was  in,  and  our  next  awaken- 
ing was  on  the  grand  glacier  fields.  The  greatest  sight  of  the  entire 
trip,  or  of  any  trip  in  the  world,  opened  out  before  many  eager 
eyes.  For  several  days,  icebergs  had  been  seen  sailing  along  on 
the  smooth  surface,  from  the  great  glaciers,  and  speeding  to  the 
southern  seas  like  phantom  ships.  As  the  steamer  neared  the 
bay,  these  huge  bergs  increased  in  size  and  number  with  such 
grotesque  and  weird  shapes  that  the  mind  was  absorbed  in  shap- 
ing turrets,  ghosts,  goblins,  and  the  like,  each  moment  developing 
more  and  more  of  things  unearthly  until  the  heart  and  eyes  were 
bursting  with  the  strain,  when  suddenly  a  great  roar,  like  an  ex- 
plosion from  dynamitic  bombs,  turned  all  eyes  to  the  parent 
glacier,  to  see  the  birth  of  these  unnatural  forms.  They  broke 
from  the  icy  wall  with  a  stupendous  crash,  and  fell  into  the  water 
with  such  force  as  to  send  the  great  ship  careening  on  her  side. 

The  Muir  Glacier  occupied  the  most  attention,  and  it  was 
the  most  accessible  to  tourists.  It  rose  to  a  perpendicular 
height  of  350  feet  and  stretched  across  the  entire  head  of  the 
Glacier  Bay,  which  was  from  three  to  five  miles  in  width.  The 
Muir  and  Davidson  glaciers  are  the  two  arms  of  the  great  ice- 
field extending  more  than  four  htmdred  miles  in  length,  covering 
more  area  than  all  Switzerland,  and  any  one  of  the  fifteen  sub- 
divisions of  the  glacial  stream  is  as  large  as  the  great  Rhone 
Glacier. 

Underlying  this  great  ice-field  is  that  glacial  river  which  bears 
these  motmtains  of  ice  on  its  bosom  to  the  ocean.  With  a  roar 
like  distant  artillery,  or  an  approaching  thunderstorm,  the  ad- 
vancing walls  of  this  great  monster  split  and  fall  into  the  watery 
deep  which  has  been  sounded  to  a  depth  of  eight  hundred  feet 
without  finding  anchor. 

The  glacial  wall  is  a  rugged,  uneven  mass,  with  clefts  and 
crevices,  towering  pinnacles  and  domes,  higher  than  Bunker  Hill 
Monument,  cutting  the  air  at  all  angles,  and  with  a  stupendous 
crash  sections  broke  off  from  any  portion  without  warning,  and 
sunk  far  out  of  sight.  Scarcely  two  minutes  elapsed  without  a 
portion  falling  from  some  quarter.     The  marble  whiteness  of  the 


564         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

face  was  relieved  by  depths  of  intense  blue,  a  characteristic 
peculiar  to  the  small  portions  as  well  as  great. 

Going  ashore  in  row  boats,  the  vast  ice  front  along  the  sandy 
beach  was  first  explored;  it  was  like  a  fairy  land.  There  were 
acres  of  grottos,  whose  honeycombed  walls  were  most  dehcately 
carved  by  the  soft  winds,  and  the  sunlight  reflections  around  in 
the  arches  of  ice  were  such  as  are  never  seen  except  in  water,  ice, 
and  sky. 

Remnants  of  glaciers,  along  the  beach,  stood  poised  on  one 


Our  steamer  narrowly  escaped  being  crushed  by  the  ice  floes 

point,  or  perchance  on  two  points,  and  arched  between.  These 
icebergs  were  dotted  with  stones  imbedded;  great  bowls  were 
melted  out  and  filled  with  water,  and  little  cups  made  of  ice 
would  afford  a  drink  of  fresh  water  on  the  shore  of  this  salt  sea. 

At  five  o'clock  in  the  morning,  with  the  sun  kissing  the  cold, 
majestic  glacier  into  a  glad  awakening  from  its  icy  sleep,  the  ascent 
was  begun;  too  eager  to  be  the  first  to  see  the  top,  many  started 
without  breakfast,  while  others  chose  the  wiser  part,  and  waited 
to  be  physically  fortified. 

The  ascent  was  not  so  difficult  as  it  was  dangerous.  There 
was  no  trail,  no  guide,  and  many  a  step  had  to  be  retraced  to  get 
across  or  around  some  apparently  bottomless  fissure.     For  some 


Alaska  565 

distance  the  ground  seemed  quite  solid.  It  was  discovered  that 
there  was  but  a  thin  covering  of  dirt  on  the  solid  ice  below;  but 
sometimes  in  striking  the  ground  with  the  end  of  an  alpine  stick, 
it  would  prove  to  be  but  an  arch  of  ice  and  dirt  mixed,  a  sort  of 
shell  surface  over  a  dark  abyss  which  we  could  not  fathom.  Reach- 
ing the  top  after  a  tedious  and  slippery  climb  there  was  a  long  view 
of  icy  billows,  as  if  the  sea  had  suddenly  congealed  amid  a  tempes- 
tuous storm.  Deep  chasms  obstructed  the  way  on  all  sides,  and 
a  misstep  or  slip  would  send  one  down  the  blue  steps  where  no 
friendly  rope  could  rescue  and  only  rushing  water  roared  in 
fathomless  vaults.  To  view  the  solid  phalanxes  of  ice  floes  as 
they  filled  the  mountain  fastnesses,  and  imperceptibly  marched 
through  the  ravines  and  forced  their  way  to  the  sea,  filled  us  with 
awe  indescribable.  The  knowledge  that  the  ice  was  moving 
from  beneath  our  feet  engendered  a  sensation  hard  to  portray. 

It  seemed  like  the  constant  wooing  of  the  sea  that  won  the 
offering  from  this  wealth  of  purity,  instead  of  the  voluntary  act 
of  this  giant  of  the  Arctic  Zone. 

For  twenty-four  hours  the  awfiil  grandeiir  of  these  scenes 
was  gloried  in,  then  Captain  Hunter  gave  the  order  to  draw  the 
anchor  and  steam  away.  The  whistles  called  the  passengers 
back  to  the  steamer,  where  they  were  soon  comparing  specimens, 
viewing  instantaneous  photographs,  hiding  bedraggled  clothing, 
casting  away  tattered  mufflers,  and  telling  of  hair-breadth  escapes 
from  peril  and  death.  When  more  than  a  mile  on  our  way  a 
passenger  was  missed  and  Captain  Hunter  turned  back  to  find 
him.  Away  on  the  shore  a  strong  glass  revealed  the  frantic  man. 
He  had  crossed  a  tiny  stream  away  up  on  the  heights  and  when  he 
came  down  it  was  too  wide  and  swift  to  recross.  A  small  boat 
was  sent  to  his  rescue  and  he  was  saved  from  a  horrible  death  of 
starvation  and  exposure. 

The  steamer's  whistle  was  the  signal  for  a  holiday  in  all  Alask- 
an ports,  and  Sitka  was  no  exception  to  the  rule.  It  was  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning,  but  the  sleepy  town  with  its  fifteen 
hundred  inhabitants  had  awakened  to  the  fact  of  our  arrival 
and  they  were  out  in  force  to  greet  friends  or  to  sell  their  wares. 
The  harbor  was  the  most  beautiful  that  a  fertile  brain  could 
imagine.  Exquisitely  moulded  islands  were  scattered  about 
enchantingly,  differing  in  shapes  and  sizes  with  now  and  then 
a  little  garden  patch.    As  far  out  as  the  eye  could  reach  the 


566         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

beautiful  isles  break  the  cold  sea  into  bewitching  inlets  and  lure 
the  mariner  to  shelter  from  evil  outside  waves. 

The  village  nestles  between  giant  mountains  on  a  lowland 
curve,  surrounded  by  verdure  too  dense  to  be  penetrated  with 
the  eye.  The  first  prominent  feature  on  land  was  a  large  square 
two-story  house,  located  on  a  rocky  eminence  near  the  shore,  and 
overlooking  the  entire  town  and  harbor.  Once  it  was  a  model 
dwelling  of  much  pretention  with  its  spacious  apartments,  hard- 
wood six-inch  plank  floors,  and  elaborately  carved  decorations, 


Sitka's  Main  Street  and  the  old  Greek  Church 


stained-glass  windows,  and  its  amusement  and  refreshment  halls. 
All  betokened  the  former  elegance  of  the  Russian  Governor's 
home,  which  was  supported  with  such  pride  and  magnificence 
as  will  never  be  seen  there  again.  The  walls  were  crumbling, 
the  windows  broken,  and  the  old  oaken  stairways  will  soon  be 
sinking  to  earth,  and  its  only  life  will  be  on  the  page  of  history 
as  the  Old  Baronoff  Castle. 

There  were  eighteen  missionaries  in  Sitka,  under  the  Presby- 
terian jurisdiction,  trying  to  educate  and  Christianize  the  Indians 
and  they  were  doing  a  noble  work. 

These  Indians,  like  the  other  tribes,  were  not  poor,  many 
having  more  than  twenty  thousand  dollars  in  cash ;  yet  the  squalor 
in  which  they  live  would  indicate  the  direst  poverty. 

The  stroll  to  Indian  River,  from  which  the  town  had  its  water 


Alaska  567 

supply,  was  bewitching.  The  walk  was  about  six  feet  wide,  close 
to  the  bay,  through  the  evergreen  forest,  the  trees  arching  over- 
head for  a  distance  of  two  miles.  The  water  was  carried  in 
buckets  loaded  on  carts  and  wheeled  by  hand,  for  horses  were 
almost  unknown  in  Alaska.  There  were  probably  no  more  than 
half  a  dozen  horses  and  mules  in  all  Alaska,  and  only  two  poor 
little  mules  in  Sitka  belonging  to  the  mission — not  so  much 
because  of  the  expense  of  transportation  and  board  as  lack  of 


"  The  stroll  to  Indian  River  was  bewitching  " 

roads,  and  the  long  dark  days  and  months  of  winter,  when  the 
people  go  out  but  little.  The  packing  was  then  done  in  all 
sections  of  Alaska  by  natives  carrying  the  packs  and  supplies  on 
their  backs. 

Sitka's  most  interesting  object  was  the  old  Greek  church 
right  in  the  middle  of  the  town,  and  also  in  the  middle  of  the 
street.  Its  form  is  that  of  a  Greek  cross,  with  a  copper  covered 
dome  surmounted  by  chime  bells  in  the  tower.  The  inside 
glitters  with  gold  and  rare  paintings,  gold  embroidered  altar  cloths 
and  robes.  Quaint  candelabra  of  solid  silver  were  suspended  in 
many  nooks,  and  an  air  of  sacred  quiet  pervaded  the  whole  build- 
ing. There  were  no  seats,  for  the  Russians  remain  standing  during 
hours  of  worship.     Service  was  held  every  Sabbath  by  a  Russian 


568         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

priest  and  given  in  his  native  language,  and  the  church  was  still 
supported  by  the  Russian  Government.  Indeed,  Russia  was 
doing  more  for  the  advancement  of  religion  than  our  own  Govern- 
ment for  Alaska  at  that  time. 

The  North  Star  was  a  ten  by  twelve  inch  four-page  paper, 
edited  by  Sheldon  Jackson,  D.  D.,  and  Prof.  WilHam  N.  Kelly, 
and  published  monthly  in  the  interests  of  schools  and  missions 
in  Alaska.  Rev.  Sheldon  Jackson  was  a  tireless  worker  in  the 
mission  field  and  laid  the  foundation  for  all  educational  work  as 
it  is  now  carried  on. 


Sitka's  mercantile  squaws  object  to  cameras 

Two  days  were  spent  in  visiting  and  trafficking  with  these 
people,  then  the  anchor  came  up,  and  a  silver  trail  like  a  huge  sea 
serpent  moved  among  the  green  isles,  and  followed  us  now  on  the 
homeward  sail.  But  one  new  place  of  importance  was  made  on 
the  home  trip,  and  that  was  Killisnoo.  When  the  steamer  an- 
chored the  evening  after  leaving  Sitka,  the  city  policeman  met 
us  at  the  wharf,  and  requested  a  visit  to  his  hut.  Of  course, 
he  was  a  native,  who  expected  to  sell  some  curios.  Over  his 
door  was  the  following: 


*By  the  Governor's  commission, 
And  the  Company's  permission, 
I  am  made  the  grand  Tyhee 
Of  this  entire  illahee. 


Alaska 


569 


"Prominent  in  song  and  story, 
I  *ve  attained  the  top  of  glory, 
As  Saginaw  I  am  known  to  fame, 
Jake  is  but  my  common  name. " 

The  time  he  attained  his  fame  and  glory  was  when  he 
and  his  wife  were  both  drunk ;  he  put  the  handcuffs  on  his  wife, 
and  could  not  get 
them  off,  for  he 
lost  the  key,  and 
she  had  to  go  to 
Sitka  to  be  re- 
1  eased.  He  ap- 
peared in  at  least 
a  dozen  different 
suits  while  the 
steamer  was  in 
port,  and  was  ready 
to  be  photographed 
every  time. 

Killisnoo  used 
to  be  a  point  where 
100,000  barrels  of 
herring  oil  was  put 
up  annually.  The 
industry  was  in- 
creasing again  but 
was  far  short  of 
the  old  shipments. 

Alaska  has  vast 
resources,  in  for- 
ests, metals,  furs, 
and  fish.  There  are 
300,000,000  acres 
densely  wooded 
with  spruce,  red  and  yellow  cedar,  Oregon  pine,  hemlock,  fir, 
and  other  useful  varieties  of  timber.  Canoes  sixty  feet  long, 
with  eight-foot  beams,  are  made  from  Sitka  trees. 

As  is  now  well  known,  gold,  silver,  lead,  iron,  coal,  and  copper 
are  encountered  in  various  localities.  Though  but  little  pros- 
pected or  developed  Alaska  was  then  yielding  gold  at  the  rate 


Killisnoo  Jake 


570        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


of  about  $2,000,000  per  year.  There  is  a  respectable  area  of 
island  and  mainland  country  well  adapted  to  stock  raising,  and 
the  production  of  cereals  and  vegetables.     The  climate  of  much 

of  the  coast  country  is 
milder  than  that  of 
Colorado,  and  stock 
can  feed  in  the  pastures 
the  year  round. 

But  if  Alaska  had 
no  mines,  forests,  or 
agriculture,  its  seal  and 
salmon  fisheries  would 
remain  alone  an  im- 
mense commercial  pro- 
]3erty.  The  salmon  are 
found  in  almost  any 
part  of  these  northern 
waters,  where  fresh 
waters  come  in,  as  they 
always  run  up  fresh- 
water streams  in  the 
spawning  season.  There 
are  different  varieties 
that  come  at  stated 
periods,  and  are  caught 
in  fabulous  numbers, 
sometimes  running 
solid  ten  feet  deep,  and 
often  retarding  steam- 
ers when  a  school  of 
them  is  overtaken.  At 
Idaho  Inlet  Mr.  Van 
Gasken  brought  up  a 
seine  for  the  steamer  Elder  tourists  to  see  that  contained  350 
salmon  for  packing.  At  nearly  every  port  the  steamer  landed 
there  was  either  one  or  more  canning  or  salt  packing  establish- 
ments for  salmon.  From  these  1 1 ,500,000  pounds  were  mar- 
keted in  1887. 

Besides  the  salmon,  there  is  the  halibut,  black  and  white  rock 
cod,  herring,  sturgeon,  and  many  other  fish,  and  the  waters  are 


A  street-corner  nursery 


Alaska 


571 


whipped  by  porpoises  and  whales  in  large  numbers  all  along 
the  way.  Gov.  Swineford  estimated  the  products  of  Alaskan 
fisheries  in  1887  at  $3,000,000. 

The  seal  fisheries  are  still  eighteen  hundred  miles  west  of 
Sitka.  There  the  islands  are  in  continuous  fog  in  summer  and 
are  swept  by  icy  blasts  in  winter.  There  are  many  interesting 
facts  connected  with  these  islands,  and  the  habits  of  these  animals 


Nearing  the  home  shore 


Suffice  that  100,000  seals  were  then  killed  each  year  for  com- 
mercial purposes.  Over  a  million  seal  pups  are  born  every  year 
and  when  they  go  for  winter  quarters  they  travel  in  families  only 
and  not  in  droves. 

In  fact,  Alaska  is  full  to  overflowing  with  offerings  to  seekers 
of  fortune  or  pleasure.  Its  coast  climate  as  far  north  as  Sitka  is 
mild,  with  no  extreme  heat,  the  snow-clad  peaks  temper  the  humid 
air,  and  the  Japan  warm  currents  bathe  its  mossy  slopes  in  winter. 

Away  up  along  the  Yukon  it  is  the  coldest  place  in  winter  of 
any  habitable  land,  but  so  is  the  heat  greater  there  in  the  sum- 
mer than  in  the  Southern  States ;  but  that  land  was  so  far  beyond 


572         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  tread  of  civilization  that  it  was  not  thought  the  same  century 
in  which  we  Hve  to-day  would  witness  its  development. 

Three  thousand  miles  along  this  inland  sea  have  revealed 
scenes  of  matchless  grandeur — majestic  mountains,  like  snow 
crowned  St.  Elias,  rising  19,500  feet  from  the  ocean  beach,  and 
holding  the  mightiest  glaciers  of  the  universe.  Worlds  of  in- 
imitable, indescribable  splendor,  with  hundreds  of  gigantic 
waterfalls,  make  this  grand  scene  a  trip  of  a  lifetime.  There  is 
none  other  like  it,  and  the  tourist  who  fails  to  make  it  will  miss 
many  a  happy  dream  in  his  declining  years. 

One  of  the  most  interesting  features  of  the  Alaskan  trip  is 
the  study  of  the  tides  and  the  care  that  mariners  must  use  in 
navigating  those  waters.  There  are  whirlpools  and  rapids  that 
are  strong  and  wicked — drawing  in  even  a  "man  of  war"  and 
not  a  piece  of  the  ship  ever  found.  There  is  scarcely  an  hour  that 
some  new  phase  of  the  waters  is  not  revealed  and  causes  many 
delays,  yet  when  the  tide  is  right  they  are  as  safe  as  a  river.  Be- 
tween some  of  the  islands  the  waters  race  like  a  cloudburst  and 
striking  a  steamer  would  turn  it  completely  around  if  nothing 
worse.  At  some  places  the  difference  in  tide  is  twenty-five  feet, 
but  at  Sitka  it  is  less  than  four  feet.  The  dangers  of  the  trip 
make  it  the  more  exhilarating  when  sailing  under  a  competent 
commander  like  Captain  Hunter,  who  is  still  a  navigator  in  Puget 
Sound  and  Alaskan  waters. 

Returning  from  Alaska  to  our  Caldwell  home  there  were  some 
typical  developments  which  were  related  in  a  letter  to  my  mother 
as  follows: 

Caldwell,  July,  1888. 
My  dear  Mother: 

When  we  reached  home  from  our  Alaska  trip  yesterday  I  found  a  lot 

of  mail  from  various  friends  who  seem  to  have  us  in  mind.     Bert  Smith  and 

his  mother  will  be  here  to-morrow  for  a  little  visit.      Hattie  Wright,  my  old 

college  chum,  has  written  me  that  she  will  spend  the  summer  with  us  if  we  are 

going  to  be  at  home.     Mr.  Caldwell  and  his  daughter  Minnie  are  coming;  then 

sister  Mate,  Will,  and  Louie,  and  three  Chicagoans  with  them  will  about  swamp 

our  little  Sunnyside  home  if  they  come  at  one  time.     Pard  reached  home  just 

a  few  hours  ahead  of  me,  and  we  are  so  glad  to  be  reunited. 

We  can  get  plenty  of  good  Chinese  help  here  now  and  I  will  be  glad  to  have 

a  house  party.     I  do  not  know  as  I  have  ever  told  you  of  the  little  tilt  I  had 

with  Mr.  W.  C.  B.  Allen,  whom  you  met  out  here.     He  edited  the  Caldwell 

Tribune  awhile  and  is  now  editor  and  manager  of  the  Shoshone  Journal.    He 


I 


Alaska  573 

conspired  with  others  to  rid  our  section  of  Chinese  labor.  He  had  our  Chinese 
boy  nearly  scared  to  death  and  we  made  the  boy  stay  right  here  and  not  go 
down-town  at  all.  Mr.  Allen,  Mr.  Cooper,  T.  W.  Boone  and  others  even 
threatened  to  come  over  here  to  the  house  and  get  the  Chinaman.  Pard 
told  them  he  would  shoot  the  man  who  dared  to  molest  the  boy  on  our  premises, 
and  when  he  was  not  there,  I  would  be,  and  none  questioned  my  ability 
with  a  gun.  Mr.  Allen  has  always  shown  great  friendship  for  us,  and  the  anti- 
Chinese  Committee  sent  for  him  to  come  to  Caldwell  and  labor  with  us.  He 
came  over  one  evening,  all  primed  with  his  story,  and  finally  the  important 
subject  was  broached.  Well,  dearies,  I  wish  you  could  have  heard  his  reasons 
for  driving  out  the  poor,  hardworking  Chinese  boys.  They  were  so  weak 
that  I  could  not  restrain  my  smiles.  His  main  reason  was  that  there 
were  so  many  single  men  in  the  West  that  every  housewife  should  feel  in 
duty  bound  to  import  servant  girls  that  the  young  men  might  marry  and 
multiply  and  fill  up  this  great  desolate  land.  Finally,  when  he  was  expecting 
some  concessions,  I  turned  on  him  and  laughed  in  spite  of  myself  and  told  him 
that  I  was  sure  the  dear  people  did  not  realize  how  hopeless  he  had  considered 
his  own  bachelorhood.  I  told  him  to  send  East  for  a  carload  of  girls  of  the  kind 
he  wanted  to  choose  a  wife  from,  and  when  they  came  if  there  was  one  who 
would  do  my  work,  I  would  keep  her  until  he  was  ready  for  the  nuptials,  then  he 
should  let  me  have  my  Charlie  again.  "Oh,"  he  exclaimed,  "keep  your  old 
Chinaman  "  and  he  made  his  adieux.  He  '11  go  around  a  block  now  rather  than 
meet  me.  Now  don't  worry  about  that  trouble,  for  that  craze  has  long  since 
blown  over  and  peace  is  restored,  except  between  Mr.  Allen  and  me,  and  I 
still  have  my  Chinese  Charlie. 

With  all  our  troubles  of  State  and  Church,  and  of  domestic  and  social 
affairs,  I  have  finished  my  White  Seal  course  of  Chautauqua,  and  have  my 
papers  all  ready  to  send  in  for  the  last  of  the  four  years.  I  have  enjoyed  it 
immensely,  although  I  have  read  nearly  all  of  it  on  the  cars  as  we  have  jour- 
neyed about.  I  wonder  if  any  one  else  has  read  the  course  under  such  trying 
conditions. 

The  news  of  our  leaving  Caldwell  will  be  a  sad  surprise  to  our  friends,  for 
we  have  some  very  near  and  dear  ones  here,  as  you  have  chanced  to  see.  There 
are  no  friends  so  dear  as  those  who  go  with  you  through  days  of  adversity  and 
sorrow,  and  stand  the  test  of  pioneering.  We  can  now  appreciate  better  the 
ties  that  bind  you  to  the  few  of  the  old  families  there  and  made  you  lenient  to 
eccentricities  that  some  of  us  younger  ones  could  not  appreciate. 

Pard  had  a  dreadful  time  down  in  old  Kentucky  when  he  went  to  see  about 
that  short-homed  herd  that  he  recently  bought.  You  should  hear  him  tell 
the  story  of  his  battle  and  the  agony  he  endured.  Aside  from  the  bugs,  there 
were  fleas  galore.  Some  nights  he  dressed  himself  and  went  out  and  walked 
the  streets  half  the  night,  and  there  was  not  a  spot  on  his  body  that  did  not 
have  a  red  blotch  from  one  or  the  other  of  those  pests.  He  tried  to  drown  his 
sorrow  in  the  enthusiasm  of  nominating  President  Harrison  at  the  Chicago 
Convention,  but  he  said  he  was  in  fear  all  the  time  that  some  one  would  pick 
live  things  from  his  clothes. 

We  are  so  free  from  all  kinds  of  vermin  and  fleas  here  that  we  cannot  ap- 
preciate the  trials  of  those  who  have  them.     During  the  months  of  March  and 


574         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

April  the  woodticks  are  bad,  if  one  goes  in  the  brush,  but  they  do  not  get  in 
the  house.  Pard  shipped  two  beautiful  Kentucky  saddle  horses  with  the 
cattle,  and  I  can  hardly  wait  for  them  to  come. 

Oh,  mother,  Pard  has  just  been  in  and  whispered  something  in  my  ear 
that  he  thought  I  would  be  rejoiced  to  hear,  and  instead  of  that  it  fairly  breaks 
my  heart,  and  I  am  afraid  I  will  not  be  able  to  bury  the  disappointment  so 
deep  that  he  will  not  find  it.  He  said  that  he  and  Uncle  Rob  have  bought  the 
Hailey  Hot  Springs  and  that  they  will  erect  a  large  hotel  there  at  once.  I 
have  so  hoped  that  he  would  go  to  some  field  of  work  where  he  would  have  a 
broader  scope  for  his  capabilities.  We  have  succeeded  in  our  enterprise  here 
just  as  far  as  we  could  possibly  hope  to  do  until  vast  capital  is  invested  to  re- 
claim these  desert  lands.  Southern  Idaho  is  one  of  those  "next  year"  lands 
where  hope  can  be  deferred  as  long  as  one  has  strength  to  wait.  We  have  put 
many  on  the  road  to  wealth  here  while  we  have  been  spending  our  own  capital 
and  energies,  and  must  continue  to  sacrifice  and  wait  until  the  times  change 
or  break  away  and  take  a  new  stand.  I  love  every  foot  of  Hailey;  it  is  a 
dear  little  spot,  with  many  attractions  and  friends,  but  it  is  not  the  place 
nor  the  enterprise  for  Pard,  and  my  heart  cries  in  such  rebellion  that  I  cannot 
write  any  more  to-night. 

As  I  look  at  the  length  of  this  letter,  you  may  be  glad  that  something  leads  it 
to  a  hitching  post. 

With  much  love  for  you  all  from 

Della. 


CHAPTER  XLII 


THE  SAW  TOOTH  RANGE— A  SUMMER  AMONG  THE  CRAGS 


<^l^ 


WAY  in  the  middle 
north  of  Idaho 
are  the  Salmon 
River  mines  and 
away  up  there  the 
drainage  of  the 
great  Salmon 
River  begins  al- 
most in  the  very 
clouds.  The  long 
row  of  pointed 
teeth,  that  gives  the  mountain  range  its  name  of  Saw  Tooth 
Mountains,  rises  high  above  the  snow  line.  All  the  year  around 
the  great  white  teeth  are  the  guides  to  the  mountain  treasures 
and  they  form  the  grandest  art  view  of  the  State. 

Those  who  have  camped  on  the  lakes  nestling  in  the  arms  of 
these  noble  snow-clad  peaks  will  never  forget  the  joys  of  the  sea- 
son, with  every  fibre  of  one's  being  alert  from  the  ozone  of  the 
cool,  unsullied  air.  Down  in  the  valleys  below,  the  sun's  hot  rays 
were  drawing  the  ooze  from  every  pore,  but  up  among  the  crags 
the  bonfires  blazed  merrily  the  whole  day  long.  Glistening  and 
hungry  mountain  trout  rose  unsuspectingly  to  any  kind  of  bait 
in  the  camps  along  the  way,  and  feathered  game  and  larger  game 
of  the  forests  were  plentiful.  It  was  truly  a  hunter's  paradise. 
We  had  brought  along  our  house  party  of  seven  guests  for  a  real 
mountain  camping  experience,  and  it  was  a  novelty  to  all  of  them 
and  their  enthusiasm  was  unbounded. 

From  the  very  beginning  of  the  journey  on  Upper  Wood  River 
the  fascination  of  the  trip  was  in  the  bold  and  minareted  peaks 
with  declivitous  sides,  with  the  winding  drive  full  of  dangers  to 
the  uninitiated,  but  clear  and  promising  to  one  used  to  the  narrow 

575 


576        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


roadways  and  the  customs  of  the  mountaineers.     If  we  camped 
beside  the  river  the  great  salmon  trout  were  so  large  that  it  seemed 

that  the  waters  must 
magnify  them  until 
one  was  brought  in 
that  weighed  forty 
pounds;  its  tail 
dragged  on  the 
ground  as  it  was 
borne  into  camp  with 
a  pole  through  its  gills 
carried  on  the  should- 
ers of  the  happy 
fishermen. 

Before  we  reached 
the  beautiful  Saw 
Tooth  Lakes  we  spent 
one  night  at  a  de- 
serted cabin,  but  the 
word  "deserted"  is 
used  with  a  large 
mental  reservation 
for  the  tallow  dips 
were  no  sooner  ex- 
tinguished than  a 
horde  of  rats  and 
mice  made  us  amply 
regret  seeking  that 
shelter  from  threat- 
ening clouds.  There 
was  no  ceremony  in 
their  entering  and 
they  attacked  our  be- 
longings with  the 
relish  of  hungry 
wolves.  They  scamp- 
ered in  the  rafters  and  across  our  beds  and  jumped  into  our 
faces  until  they  made  the  night  such  a  bedlam  of  distress  that 
we  were  all  out  of  doors  before  morning. 

One  of  the  party  fell  in  a  deep  hole  in  the  river  while  trying 


"  The  fascination  of  the  trip  was  in  the  bold 
and  minareted  peaks  " 


Crags  of  the  Saw  Tooth  Range  577 

to  bring  some  ducks  ashore  that  had  fallen  under  Pard's  true 
aim.  He  was  drawn  out  of  the  icy  deep  with  a  keener  perception 
of  the  magnifying  depth  of  the  water  than  he  was  wont  to  believe 
before.  His  bedraggled  clothing  was  hung  on  the  trees  to  dry 
when  the  sun  had  already  done  his  day's  work  and  gone  to  bed, 
and  the  clothes  did  not  dry,  but  they  froze  stiff  as  ice  itself.  The 
rest  of  the  party  used  the  frozen  spectre  for  a  target,  and  kept  our 
unhappy  friend  dressed  up  in  his  Sunday  best  for  the  rest  of  the 
trip.  He  was  one  of  several  Chicago  friends  who  were  enjoying 
their  first  trip  west,  and  they  did  not  fail  to  play  a  little  joke  on 
each  other  when  possible.  Pard  enjoyed  those  little  pranks 
so  well  that  two  or  three  of  us  planned  one  to  include  him.  The 
story  as  it  appeared  in  an  Idaho  paper  was  a  good  description  of 
the  incident,  and  I  will  quote  it  in  full.  It  was  copied  all  over 
the  West  and  in  the  Chicago  papers  and  for  the  year  following  I 
am  sure  a  week  did  not  pass  that  Pard  did  not  get  from  one  to 
three  or  four  marked  copies  of  that  article  from  somewhere.  Mr. 
Waters's  special  friends  in  the  Illinois  Club  of  Chicago  were  each 
armed  with  a  copy  when  Mr. Waters  reached  home.  It  ran  as 
follows : 

A  good  story  is  wafted  on  the  breezes  from  the  Redfish  Lakes  in  which 
Robt.  E.  Strahorn  and  his  Chicago  friends  were  the  star  actors.  One  even- 
ing when  the  mighty  hunters  had  returned  from  their  daily  slaughter,  and 
were  quietly  smoking  the  pipe  of  peace  and  playing  poker  for  red  chips,  the 
alarm  was  raised  that  a  crane  of  a  rare  species  was  sitting  on  a  rock  in  the 
river  catching  fish.  Grasping  their  trusty  weapons,  Strahorn  and  Waters 
began  to  cautiously  creep  upon  the  unsuspecting  crane,  trembling  with  ex- 
citement for  fear  that  they  would  lose  the  valuable  specimen,  and  hoping 
that  they  might  also  find  its  nest.  With  such  visions  Mr.  Waters  drew  a  bead 
on  the  crane's  head,  shut  his  eyes,  and  pulled  the  trigger. 

When  the  smoke  cleared  away  the  bird  was  discovered  in  the  same  place, 
evidently  taking  great  satisfaction  in  treating  his  enemies  with  supreme 
contempt.  It  was  now  Strahorn 's  turn  and  he  dropped  on  one  knee  and  ran 
his  eye  along  the  trusty  barrel,  the  gun  cracked,  and  the  crane  fell  into  the 
water  and  started  to  drift  away.  With  a  shout  of  triumph  the  two  hunters 
dashed  forward  over  rocks,  through  brush,  and  into  the  river  to  secure  the 
prize.  After  getting  a  thorough  soaking,  they  at  last  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  bird,  and  as  Strahorn,  standing  waist  deep  in  water,  grasped  it  by  the 
neck,  the  shout  of  triumph  which  was  trembling  on  his  lips  died  away,  and 
holding  the  stuffed  crane  at  arm's  length,  he  muttered:  "Sold,  by  thunder!" 
It  was  a  well-planned  joke  by  the  ladies  of  the  party,  as  this  rare  species  of 
crane  could  be  bought  for  two-bits  at  any  Chinese  store. 

After  that  incident  it  was  ever  with  misgivings  that  they  would 
37 


578         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


raise  the  rifle  for  any  game  near  camp,  and  once  they  actually 
refused  to  shoot  into  a  covey  of  ducks  because  they  believed 
them  to  be  decoys. 

At  the  limit  of  our  drive  it  was  but  another  day  across  to 
Bonanza,  where  Pard  had  left  me  when  he  first  crossed  that  wild 
mountain  range  ten  years  before.  I  could  not  free  my  thoughts 
from  the  friends  over  the  other  side  of  the  divide.  We  roamed 
about  the  woods  contiguous  to  our  camp,  and  it  was  not  surprising 
that  we  fell  upon  a  secluded  cabin  where  a  prospector  lived  the 

life  of  a  recluse  in  all  the 
loneliness  of  his  hidden 
habitation.  This  part  of 
the  country  had  as  many 
living  in  the  wooded  cloi- 
sters as  they  had  over  the 
divide.  The  tragedies  of 
the  hills  are  many,  even 
away  up  among  the  clouds 
where  one  seems  to  be 
almost  in  God's  arms. 
^g^  tU^^BHSHl  These  hermit   characters 

'^^  .  '^^^^^^^  are   found   all   over  this 

Western  land,  in  the  low- 
lands, along  the  rivers 
and  on  the  lakes,  but 
most  of  all  in  the  land 
of  the  prospector;  away 
up  where  all  men  are 
equal,  away  up  where  a  man  has  only  what  he  can  bring 
on  his  own  back,  or  that  of  a  trusty  pack  animal,  in  the  land 
where  there  is  no  social  discrimination,  where  one  must  fall  in 
line  with  the  humor  of  the  trail  or  be  made  the  butt  of  ridicule, 
where  sometimes  rather  than  hold  out  the  hand  of  fellowship 
he  will  hide  himself  and  live  a  quiet  uneventful  life  far  from 
home  and  friends.  When  the  winter  snows  lie  deep  around  their 
little  cabins,  and  the  long  night  falls  on  the  desolate  wilderness, 
what  thoughts,  what  memories,  must  haunt  these  lonely  men  sit- 
ting there  in  solitude  and  darkness.  As  the  time  goes  on  they  be- 
come sensitive  and  timid,  and  unless  their  characters  are  especially 
strong  they  will  finally  avoid  all  contact  with  civilization. 


We  roamed  about  tiie  woods  contiguous 
to  our  camp  " 


Crags  of  the  Saw  Tooth  Range  579 

I  often  asked  my  Pard  why  so  many  of  these  mountain  hermits 
unburdened  their  affairs  of  the  heart  to  me.  There  was  scarcely 
a  camp  that  we  visited  but  that  some  honest-hearted  man  would 
pour  his  romance  into  my  sympathetic  ear  if  he  had  an  oppor- 
tunity. Pard  said  I  expressed  the  whole  key:  it  was  my  sym- 
pathetic nature  that  had  drawn  out  the  story  when  they  may  not 
have  really  intended  to  tell  it.  It  was  such  a  rarity  to  have  a 
woman  come  among  them  that  when  she  showed  any  personal 
interest  in  them  their  hearts  turned  homeward  to  the  girl,  wife,  or 
mother  they  had  left  behind.  The  stories  were  always  interest- 
ing and  my  own  married  life  was  such  a  joy  that  I  must  have 
imparted  the  matrimonial  fever  to  many  who  asked  advice. 
Sometimes  the  man  had  run  away  from  home  and  the  girl  he 
loved  without  leaving  any  message,  run  away  to  the  land  of 
promise  to  make  a  fortune  to  lay  at  her  feet.  He  had  met 
with  only  ordinary  luck,  or  perhaps  had  only  the  fortune  of  a 
miner's  wages,  but  he  knew  the  girl  loved  him,  for  she  had  never 
married,  and  would  I  tell  him  what  he  ought  to  do.  More  than 
one  maid  of  the  far  East  has  been  led  to  the  altar  by  the  man 
of  her  choice  who  will  never  know  how  much  I  helped  her,  or 
that  I  bought  the  engagement  ring  that  crowned  their  years  of 
waiting. 

One  man  had  kept  up  a  correspondence  of  more  than  ten 
years  with  a  girl  back  at  the  old  home,  but  his  fortune  was  bad 
and  he  had  not  the  heart  to  ask  her  to  marry  him  when  he  was 
down  on  his  luck,  and  now  his  mine  that  he  had  hoped  so  much 
from  had  been  thrown  into  litigation  which  might  last  through 
eternity.  Then  I  recited  to  him  a  part  of  that  famous  little 
poem: 

"A  POOR   MAN'S  WIFE 

"  Only  ten  dollars — no  more,  sir — 

The  wages  I  weekly  touch, 
For  labor  steady  and  sore,  sir, 

It  is  n't  a  deal  too  much; 
Your  money  has  wings  in  the  city, 

It  vanishes  left  and  right; 
But  I  hand  it  all  to  my  Kitty 

As  sure  as  Saturday  night; 
Bless  her,  my  own,  my  wee, 
She  's  better  than  gold  to  me! 


58o        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Ah,  the  day  that  she  stood  at  the  altar, 
Modest  and  white  and  still. 

And  forth  from  her  lips  did  falter, 
The  beautiful  low,  'I  will,' 

Our  home  has  been  bright  and  pretty- 
As  ever  a  poor  man's  may, 

And  my  soft  little  dove,  my  Kitty, 
Shall  nest  in  my  heart  for  aye; 

Bless  her,  my  own,  my  wee, 

She  's  better  than  gold  to  me! " 


And  then  I  told  him  how  much  better  off  his  wife  would  be 
up  there  where  the  sky  was  blue;  with  a  dear  little  home  free 
from  the  vile  contact  of  squalor  and  distress  in  the  dirt  and  smoke 
of  a  great  city.  If  the  girl  loved  him  she  would  be  happy  where 
he  was  even  in  a  little  cage  clinging  to  the  mountainside,  open  to 
the  clear,  sweet  sunshine  of  health  and  pure  air,  if  only  he  would 
but  think  as  much  of  her  comfort  when  once  she  was  there  with 
him  as  he  did  during  his  day-dreams. 

Some  poor  fellows  have  been  jilted  by  the  girls  to  whom  they 
had  given  their  hearts'  best  love,  and  they  will  wear  away  their 
lonely  lives  until  some  morning  the  accustomed  curl  of  smoke 
will  be  lacking  above  the  cabin  roof,  and  the  faithful  dog  will 
stand  guard  as  the  only  mourner  over  the  place  of  death.  Most 
of  those  who  have  hidden  themselves  away  long  for  compan- 
ionship more  than  they  can  tell,  but  they  have  grown  so  abashed 
and  timid  they  have  not  the  courage  to  break  into  the  lines  of 
civilization  again. 

There  is  a  charm  in  the  life  where  the  packer  and  the  guide 
and  the  man  of  wealth  are  on  the  same  footing,  and  every  man  is 
measured  according  to  his  own  worth  and  not  according  to  his 
length  of  purse.  None  can  explain  the  fascination  of  the  frontier 
life,  yet  there  are  but  few  who  do  not  enjoy  its  lack  of  convention- 
alities, and  love  the  association  with  nature's  great  handiworks. 
There  is  a  freedom  in  the  life  that  gives  expansion  and  expression 
to  those  who  enjoy  the  sunshine  and  the  breezes  in  living 
close  to  nature,  yet  nowhere  on  earth  is  there  more  chivalry 
shown  to  the  gentler  sex  than  among  the  real  pioneers  of  our 
great  West.  A  woman  is  far  safer  from  intrusion  in  the  loneliest 
camp  of  the  mountains  than  in  the  very  heart  of  our  great  cities. 
In  those  far  away  fastnesses  to  which  the  search  for  gold  has  led 


Crags  of  the  Saw  Tooth  Range  581 


them,  men  look  upon  a  woman  with  awe  and  admiration,  even 
to  reverence. 

After  a  month  of  camping  on  the  Saw  Tooth  Lakes  we  re- 
luctantly turned  down  the  homeward  road,  leaving  the  back- 
ground of  solitude  behind  us;  the  mountains,  seamed,  jagged, 
and  rent,  lay  in  clear  outline  against  the  sunlit  sky.  The  pack 
trains  with  pro- 
cessions of  sturdy 
little  jacks, 
stretched  and 
doubled  their 
weary  legs  in 
scrambling  up 
and  down  the 
steep  hills  and 
carried  their  bur- 
dens  on  into 
the  mountains ; 
freighters  some- 
times  doubled 
their  teams  to  get 
their  wagons  one 
by  one  up  the 
long  grades, 
swearing  and 
cursing  at  every 
obstacle  in  their 
path  as  from 
their  seats  on  the 
off- wheeler  they 
cracked  the  whip 
around  the  ears  of  the  leading  span. 

A  freighter  is  not  necessarily  a  bad  man ;  he  is  often  generous 
to  a  fault,  but  his  language  will  not  bear  repeating  here.  I  once 
knew  of  one  who  would  not  take  a  case  of  books,  because  it  would 
overload  his  wagon;  he  said  he  could  not  possibly  make  room 
for  it,  but  he  accepted  three  times  that  bulk  in  whiskey  because, 
as  he  said,  he  would  not  have  to  carry  it  all  the  way  through 
to  his  destination.  A  freighter  accumulates  a  vocabulary  that 
would  start  almost  any  balky  horse.     His  oaths  poiu-  through  his 


Some  poor  fellows  have  been  jilted  by  the  girls  to 
whom  they  had  given  their  hearts'  best  love  " 


582         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

lips  like  water  down  a  hill.  With  every  crack  of  the  whip  as  it 
cuts  into  the  sage-brush,  or  into  the  flank  of  the  leader,  or  the 
wheelhorse,  there  is  an  accompaniment  of  profanity  long,  loud, 
and  strong  that  dies  away  in  mutterings  of  the  same  hot  stuff, 
until  Rock,  or  Pete,  or  Jim,  lags  a  bit  behind  the  other  sturdy 
pullers,  then  he  begins  anew  his  oration  of  oaths  as  he  snaps  the 
whip  on  the  ears  or  haunches  of  the  delinquent  animal. 

On  our  return  to  Hailey  we  camped  on  a  creek  that  had  a  little 
wooded  island  in  it,  where  a  great  number  of  cats  were  having 


r^ 


"  A  freighter  is  not  necessarily  a  bad  man  " 

a  hilarious  time.  A  board  was  laid  across  one  arm  of  the  creek 
that  made  a  bridge  for  the  animals  to  go  back  and  forth  over. 
They  loved  to  come  around  the  camp  for  something  to  eat,  and 
they  did  not  seem  much  afraid  unless  an  attempt  was  made  to 
catch  one  of  them,  then  they  would  all  take  fright  and  scamper 
home.  One  night  when  they  were  all  on  our  side  of  the  water  one 
of  the  party  pulled  in  the  board,  then  when  the  pussy  cats  made 
the  jump  for  home  every  one  of  them  lit  in  the  middle  of  the 
stream  where  the  board  had  been.  They  were  none  the  worse 
for  the  ducking,  but  they  did  not  jump  so  fearlessly  through  the 
bushes  again  when  the  trick  was  repeated. 


CHAPTER  XLIII 


HAILEY  HOT  SPRINGS— A  JAY  GOULD  SUMMER  RESORT 


lOT  mineral  springs 
are  bountifully 
sprinkled  over 
the  western 
country,  and 
in  a  number  of 
places  they  are 
made  most  im- 
portant  ad- 
juncts of  a 
t o wn  .  At 
Boise,  in  Idaho, 
the  natural  hot 
water  not  only 
supplies  the 
Natatorium, 
with  its  large 
swimming 
tanks,  but  the  water  is  piped  into  the  city  for  heating  pur- 
poses, and  the  same  is  now  true  of  Helena,  but  in  the  Wood 
River  country  of  Idaho  the  water  was  never  so  fully  utilized.  The 
springs  of  Ketchum,  twelve  miles  above  Hailey,  were  located  in 
an  ideal  spot.  A  grove  of  magnificent  old  gnarled  trees  made  a 
grand  natural  park  for  pleasure  parties,  and  it  was  most  deplor- 
able that  the  owner  of  such  a  glorious  location  should  spoil  it  by 
such  inferior  improvements,  but  the  springs  were  better  than  a 
gold  mine  to  him  and  every  dollar  they  brought  in  cost  him  but 
the  loan  of  a  couple  of  clean  towels. 

Domestic  difficulties  at  the  Hailey  Hot  Springs  probably 
accounted  for  their  being  thrown  on  the  market,  as  they  were  also 
profitable  with  only  the  rudest  improvements.  They  were  owned 
by  one  J.  L.  G.  Smith,  who  was  so  cruel  to  his  family  that  his 
wife  at  last  picked  up  a  shotgun  and  killed  him,  an  act  justified 

583 


584         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

by  the  courts  and  in  the  hearts  of  many  of  the  Hailey  citizens. 
Not  long  after  this  event,  and  while  I  was  in  Alaska,  Pard  and 
a  distant  relative  of  the  same  name  from  Chicago  bought  the 
springs,  proposing  to  build  a  fine  hotel  with  swimming  pools  to 
please  the  most  fastidious.  When  these  improvements  were  well 
under  way  Pard  was  called  upon  by  Mr.  Lomax  of  the  Union 
Pacific  Railway  to  write  six  new  pamphlets  each  of  one  hundred 
closely  printed  pages  on  as  many  Western  States  or  Territories, 
and  they  were  wanted  complete,  ready  for  distribution,  in  ninety 
days.     It  was  a  terrific  task  to  impose  upon  any  one.     It  is  no 


Hailey  Hot  Springs 


exaggeration  to  say  that  no  other  living  man  could  have  done  the 
work  for  no  one  had  made  such  a  study  of  Colorado,  Utah, 
Montana,  Idaho,  Oregon,  and  Washington,  to  each  of  which  one 
pamphlet  was  to  be  devoted.  His  mental  map  of  them  was  as 
complete  as  his  knowledge  of  their  resources,  but  with  all  that 
it  required  going  into  a  chest  full  of  reference  papers  and 
compiled  statistics  that  would  have  disheartened  almost  any 
one. 

We  varied  our  location  to  write  between  Salt  Lake,  Denver, 
Omaha,  Chicago,  and  yet  with  all  our  efforts  to  be  comfortable 
and  quiet  while  the  work  was  being  accompHshed,  Pard  was  a 
physical  wreck  when  the  work  was  done.  The  physicians  said 
that  he  had  used  all  of  his  physical  strength,  and  one  averred 


Hailey  Hot  Springs  585 

that  he  could  not  live  through  the  winter.  He  had  given  his  life 
to  the  company  he  had  served,  and  many  councils  for  medical  aid 
resulted  in  but  one  verdict.  Even  my  dear  old  father,  with  all 
his  years  of  medical  success,  could  give  but  little  hope,  and  he 
advised  a  trip  to  the  sunny  South  with  absolute  rest. 

New  Orleans  was  suffering  a  spell  of  intense  heat  although 
it  was  but  St.  Patrick's  Day;  we  sat  beneath  the  palms  and 
magnolias  and  enjoyed  the  flowers  as  we  listened  to  the  unusual 
singing  birds,  but  Pard  always  had  a  dislike  for  the  city  with  its 
sewage  in  the  streets,  and  its  low  marshy  surroundings.  There 
was  no  municipal  government  at  that  time  for  the  city  and  most  of 
the  homes  had  high  fences  about  them  with  locked  gates  and  bells 
to  warn  the  inmates  of  those  who  would  enter.  Every  man  was 
his  own  policeman  and  had  to  look  out  for  his  own  property. 
Some  of  the  old  cemeteries  were  surprisingly  curious,  the  graves 
having  the  outlines  marked  by  stone  bottles  buried  in  the  ground 
leaving  only  the  bottoms  of  them  exposed,  and  in  some  of  the 
oldest  places  the  bodies  were  covered  on  top  of  the  ground. 

We  chose  Pass  Christian  in  southern  Mississippi,  some  fifty 
miles  east  of  New  Orleans,  for  our  season  of  rest.  The  Mexican 
Gulf  Hotel  was  close  to  the  water  and  the  billowy  waves  gave 
us  all  sorts  of  music  from  a  soothing  lullaby  to  one  of  nature's 
greatest  anthems  of  a  storm  at  sea. 

Among  the  guests  were  a  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Green  from  Saginaw, 
Michigan ;  he  was  a  banker  and  a  lumberman,  and  his  big  heart 
made  a  great  impression  on  us.  His  first  wife  and  his  son's  wife 
were  killed  while  crossing  a  railroad  track.  He  had  married 
again,  a  dear,  sweet  woman  with  children  by  a  first  husband.  Mr. 
Green's  son  had  been  married  three  times  and  he  had  three  sets  of 
children.  His  daughter  was  married  and  had  several  children  and 
they  all  lived  at  home  with  him.  Mr.  Green  said  that  if  his  child- 
ren married  a  dozen  times  and  had  a  dozen  children  each  time 
they  should  all  stay  home  with  him  as  long  as  he  could  make 
his  house  large  enough  to  hold  them.  With  a  bank  and  lumber 
yard  to  draw  on  for  necessary  extensions  one  might  be  curious 
to  know  what  the  house  looks  like  now  after  twenty-five  more 
years'  increase  of  family. 

For  a  time  the  soft  air  and  quiet  ways  of  oiu"  life  inspired  us 
with  new  hope  for  Pard,  but  without  any  apparent  reason  he  was 
taken  violently  worse,  and  we  felt  that  a  crisis  was  at  hand.     It 


586        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

was  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  I  snapped  nearly  a  whole  box  of 
matches  in  trying  to  light  the  gas ;  then  I  rang  the  bell  and  waited 
an  endless  time  before  it  was  answered.  Some  one  had  gone  to 
bed  and  blown  out  the  gas  and  as  it  could  not  be  located  it  was 
turned  off  all  over  the  house;  the  watchman  brought  me  a  tallow 
candle  and  hastened  for  a  doctor.  But  the  man  of  medicine  was 
truly  a  son  of  the  South,  and  although  he  had  only  a  block  to  come, 
he  did  not  get  there  for  nearly  two  hours.  But  to  his  honor  and 
credit  I  will  say  that  his  work  with  Pard  was  long  and  thorough, 
his  medicine  was  doing  just  what  he  had  expected,  and  from  that 
night  Pard  began  to  be  a  new  man,  and  we  have  cherished  Dr. 
LeRoux  as  our  earthly  saviour. 

We  returned  to  Chicago  after  the  middle  of  April  and  bought 
the  furnishings  for  the  Hailey  Hot  Springs  Hotel  and  hastened 
westward  with  our  hearts  full  of  thanksgiving  and  joy.  The 
mountain  tops  of  Idaho  were  still  covered  with  snow,  but  around 
the  springs  the  grass  was  green  and  velvety  and  summer  came 
quickly. 

The  completion  of  the  Alturas  Hotel  in  the  town  of  Hailey 
marked  the  beginning  of  a  new  era  for  that  part  of  Idaho.  It  was 
an  enterprise  put  through  by  a  few  of  the  townspeople  with  the 
assistance  of  Mr.  Caldwell  and  Pard.  In  the  organization  there 
were  the  familiar  names  of  H.  Z.  Burkhart,  A.  J.  McGowan, 
S.  B.  Kingsbury,  H.  P.  Turner,  and  Joe  Oldham,  and  the  building 
was  under  the  supervision  of  W.  P.  Emmert,  of  Freeport,  111. 

We  had  personally  selected  all  the  furnishings  of  that  house 
also,  and  it  had  been  no  small  task.  The  hotel  was  afterwards 
owned  by  T.  W.  Mellon,  the  noted  banker,  of  Pittsburg,  and 
resiilted  in  a  happy  surprise  for  Hailey  in  the  arrival  of  the  private 
car  "Glen  Eyrie,"  with  a  distinguished  party  including  Thos.  A. 
Mellon,  manager  of  the  Ligonier  Valley  Railroad,  and  also  asso- 
ciated with  James  R.  Mellon  in  the  Mellon  Bank  of  Pittsburg; 
there  were  also  R.  B.  and  G.  N.  Mellon,  bankers  of  Bismarck, 
Dakota.  The  Mellons  who  were  married  had  their  families  with 
them,  making  quite  a  Mellon  patch  for  the  highlands  of  Wood 
River.  With  them  were  also  Senator  A.  Caldwell  and  wife  and 
their  two  daughters.  It  was  a  trip  in  marked  contrast  to  the  one 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Caldwell  had  taken  "overland"  with  us  only  a 
few  years  before.  The  spot  upon  which  the  Alturas  was  built  was 
then  a  wild  cherry  patch,  and  the  changes  in  places  and  in  people 


Hailey  Hot  Springs 


587 


was  like  the  difference  in  the  Altxiras  Hotel  and  Hailey's  first 
little  cabin  in  the  woods  on  the  river  bank. 

The  Hailey  people  enjoyed  a  reputation  for  enterprise  and 
hospitality  second  to  none  in  the  West,  and  the  Mellon-Caldwell 
party  had  a  round  of  good  times  that  they  will  not  forget.  The 
party  was  making  a  tour  not  only  through  the  Northwest,  but 
on  down  through  old  Mexico,  where  Mr.  Caldwell,  a  mere  lad, 
served  in  the  battle  against  the  descendants  of  the  Montezumas 
at  Chapultepec,  where  his  father,  a  commanding  officer,  was 
killed. 


The  ladies'  plunge  bath 


When  we  left  Caldwell  in  '88  Pard  gave  up  the  active  manage- 
ment of  the  townsites  and  agents  were  placed  in  the  different 
towns,  leaving  him  in  a  measure  free  to  devote  his  time  to  the  new 
enterprise. 

A  large  ranch  bought  by  the  new  Hot  Springs  Company  gave 
a  latitude  about  the  place  of  a  thousand  acres  of  rolling  bunch- 
grass  and  meadow  lands,  with  Wood  River  in  the  foreground. 
The  registered  Kentucky  cattle,  a  hundred  and  fifty  head,  formed 
the  finest  herd  west  of  Iowa  and  it  was  a  great  attraction  long 
before  the  hotel  and  swimming  pools  were  completed. 

The  Hot  Springs  Company  also  bought  the  Hailey  electric 
light  plant,  making  H.  Z.  Burkhart  general  manager,  secretary, 
and  treasurer,  and  if  the  offices  he  filled  did  not  keep  him  busy 


588         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  plant  did.  If  evil  spirits  ever  worked  in  electric  fluid 
they  surely  did  in  Hailey,  for  no  matter  how  perfect  the  service 
at  other  times  there  was  scarcely  an  important  social  function 
in  town  or  at  the  springs  that  those  lights  did  not  go  out. 
Then  from  the  dark  depths  of  a  ballroom  Mr.  Burkhart  would 
make  a  wild  exit,  don  his  rubber  suit,  and  fly  to  the  juice  factory 
to  find  the  electrician  drunk,  or  absent,  or  the  waterwheel  clogged 
with  slush  ice,  or  some  other  dire  trouble  existing,  and  he  himself 


Jay  Gould  and  family  with  Hailey  citizens.    Reading  from  right  to  left — sitting, 

are  Miss  Helen  Gould,  Jay  Gould,  Miss  Anna  Gould,  later  Countess  de 

Castellane,  Mrs.  S.  H.  H.  Clark,  Edwin  Gould,  and  Frank  Gould 


might  have  to  jump  into  the  water  and  clean  the  ice  from  the 
wheel.  Sometimes  the  lights  came  back,  and  so  did  he,  and 
sometimes  miners'  candles  sputtered  on  the  walls  and  dripped 
their  incense  on  the  revellers  as  the  dance  went  on.  Those  were 
days  when  electric  plants  had  not  yet  reached  the  perfection  of 
this  later  century,  and  every  man  who  came  to  run  the  plant 
built  it  over  and  condemned  his  predecessor  whether  he  came 
from  Chicago,  Portland,  or  San  Francisco.  It  was  a  lesson  in 
patience  and  expense  that  was  more  severe  than  writing  books. 


Hailey  Hot  Springs  589 

When  everything  was  in  readiness  for  the  opening  ball  at 
Hailey  Hot  Springs  Hotel,  Pard  went  with  the  Hailey  Cornet  Band 
to  meet  a  trainload  of  Salt  Lake  excursionists  at  Shoshone.  They 
were  to  arrive  early  in  the  morning  and  it  seemed  that  my  eyes 
had  just  closed  in  a  first  deep  sleep  when  a  startling  summons  at 
my  door  gave  the  despairing  information  that  the  gentlemen's 
cement  plunge  had  broken  and  the  basement  and  bowling  alley 
were  filled  with  water  and  a  team  of  horses  could  go  through  the 
gaping  aperture  that  emptied  the  great  tank.  My  heart  sank 
in  despair  at  the  unlooked-for  catastrophe.  The  basement  and 
alley  were  not  yet  completed,  but  all  the  supplies  for  the  table 
were  stored  there,  and  what  could  not  float  were  buried  in  hot 
water.  Every  man  on  the  place  was  set  at  rescue  work  and  it  was 
a  tired  crowd  that  met  the  happy  tourists  on  their  arrival. 

There  were  thousands  of  shade  trees  and  orchard  trees  planted 
around  the  hotel ;  no  pains  or  money  had  been  spared  in  making 
the  place  attractive  for  such  people  as  Jay  Gould  and  family,  and 
many  other  notables  who  found  it  a  charming  retreat.  The 
summer  passed  most  successfully.  The  resort  was  a  joy  and 
comfort  to  all  that  country  between  Salt  Lake  and  Huntington. 
The  hotel  was  closed  in  December  that  we  might  reach  Illinois 
for  Christmas  festivities,  but  we  delayed  starting  just  one  day  too 
long.  Pard  started  out  two  days  ahead  of  me  for  a  quick  trip  to 
Caldwell  and  on  the  second  day  we  were  to  meet  in  Shoshone  and 
go  on  East.  But  that  night  it  began  to  snow,  and  it  did  not  stop 
except  for  a  few  hours  at  a  time  until  the  snow  was  five  feet  deep 
on  a  level.  While  it  did  not  drift,  it  was  a  beautiful  sight  to  see 
the  great  white  carpet  gradually  rise  over  the  fence  tops  until 
the  masses  fell  from  the  roof  and  blocked  all  the  windows 
on  the  first  floor  of  the  Springs  Hotel.  Then  the  final  storm 
drifted  furiously  and  our  condition  at  the  springs  became  really 
serious.  A  few  venturesome  miners  came  down  from  the  hills  on 
snowshoes,  clad  in  furs  and  gunny  sacks,  and  as  their  poles  and 
shoes  were  stood  on  end  near  the  tunnelled  doorway  it  seemed  as 
if  we  had  been  transported  to  Lapland.  When  the  sun  came  out 
again  I  hurried  the  final  arrangements  for  the  care  of  the  house  and 
decided  to  make  an  effort  to  get  into  town  with  the  one  maid  that 
was  still  with  me.  The  horses  were  brought  to  the  door  after  a 
road  had  been  made  for  them,  but  how  we  were  to  get  to  town 
was  not  yet  solved. 


590         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  fence  around  the  park  in  front  of  the  house  was  entirely 
out  of  sight;  we  had  to  skirt  it  or  go  over  it  to  get  to  the  main 
road  as  yet  untrodden  since  the  heavy  storm  began. 

Fortunately  the  men  who  had  come  from  the  mines  were 
equally  anxious  to  get  to  town,  and  with  the  two  men  of  our  own 
we  started  out  after  two  weeks  of  snow  imprisonment.  The  sky 
was  beautifully  clear  and  blue,  but  the  temperature  was  eight 
degrees  below  zero.  It  required  nearly  three  hours  to  get  around 
our  own  little  park  to  the  main  road,  and  after  that  whenever  the 


1     I'  " 


^/,^ 


"  It  required  nearly  three  hours  to  get  around  our  own  little  park 


horses  got  off  the  road  they  went  almost  out  of  sight  in  the  deep 
drifts  and  had  to  be  shovelled  out.  The  snow  was  as  dry  as  pow- 
der and  the  freezing  weather  did  not  crust  it  over.  It  was  only 
after  many  laborious  hours  of  floundering  over  those  two  miles 
between  the  springs  and  town  that  I  was  left  at  the  Alturas  Hotel 
completely  exhausted  from  the  trip.  There  I  had  to  wait  until 
the  seventh  of  January  before  a  train  could  get  out  of  Hailey. 
It  was  also  impossible  to  get  telegrams  out  or  in,  and  Pard  was  in 
a  state  of  panic  not  easy  to  describe  as  he  waited  for  me  outside 
of  the  snow-girded  hills.  It  was  the  worst  winter  ever  known  on 
Wood  River. 

High  winds,  stalled  freights,  broken  engines,  and  a  few  other 


Hailey  Hot  Springs  591 

things  delayed  travel  all  the  way  East.  The  good  folks  at  home 
had  waited  the  Christmas  tree  until  New  Year's,  and  then,  hear- 
ing nothing  from  us,  they  handed  out  their  gifts  to  one  another 
with  doleful  and  solemn  faces,  while  hourly  expecting  to  hear  of 
some  calamity,  but  it  was  still  another  week  before  they  received 
the  message  "snow-bound"  that  absolved  all  fears. 

Snow  was  still  three  feet  deep  in  Idaho  in  February,  and  at 
Rocky  Bar  it  had  reached  the  phenomenal  depth  of  eight  feet. 
During  that  ever-to-be-remembered  winter  it  was  estimated  that 
one  hundred  feet  of  snow  fell  in  the  Rocky  Bar  district,  where 
every  fresh  fall  of  snow  had  been  carefully  measured.  When 
we  returned  there  and  saw  the  still  favorable  conditions  for  more 
snow,  we  went  at  once  to  our  favorite  resort  of  Monterey,  to 
wait  for  clearer  skies. 

The  snow  was  no  longer  confined  to  the  mountains  and  we  had 
to  wait  forty-eight  hours  in  Shoshone,  and  then  take  a  train  that 
had  no  sleeper  to  Ogden.  From  Ogden  west  a  series  of  mishaps 
followed — a  broken  wheel  under  the  baggage  car,  and  a  wait  for 
a  new  one  to  be  put  in;  then  another  wheel  broke  under  the 
Pullman,  the  car  was  sidetracked,  and  the  passengers  forced  to 
go  into  a  chair  car. 

Up  in  the  Sierras  the  snow-banks  were  higher  than  the  car 
windows  and  in  many  places  we  could  not  see  the  top  of  the  cut 
made  for  the  cars  to  pass  through.  We  bumped  into  snow-drifts, 
had  broken  piston  rods  on  our  engine,  and  waited  for  a  brakeman 
to  walk  five  miles  to  wire  for  an  engine  to  come  thirty  miles  to 
the  rescue;  but  with  all  the  discomforts  and  delays  we  arrived  in 
San  Francisco  safely. 

Down  on  the  beach  of  Monterey  Bay  the  sea  rolled  in  the 
same  musical  rhythm.  Chinamen  were  weeding  clover  from  the 
blue  grass,  bees  were  gathering  honey,  and  we  forgot  the  snow- 
bound lands  of  the  east  and  north.  The  beautiful  California 
poppies  opened  and  closed  their  eyes  with  the  day;  they  drank 
in  the  sunshine  and  gave  it  out  again  in  their  golden  hues,  making 
the  waysides  glorious  in  their  untrammelled  confusion  of  wanton 
luxuriance.  To  live  among  the  brown  hills  and  sage-brush  gives 
one  an  appreciation  of  the  semitropical  verdure  and  bloom,  and 
every  tree  and  flower  incited  adoration  and  favor. 

News  came  at  last  of  the  slipping  away  of  the  great  white  sheet 
of  winter  and  the  call  of  the  north  came  again.     We  reached 


592         FifteenThousand  Miles  by  Stage 

Portland  on  April  7,  1890,  the  opening  day  of  the  Hotel  Portland, 
and  a  proud  day  for  Oregon,  for  in  whatever  a  city  excels  the  State 
to  which  it  belongs  shares  and  glories  in  the  triumph.  It  was  our 
first  all-rail  trip  from  Frisco  to  Portland,  but  even  the  railroad  was 
not  all  one  might  wish.  The  April  sun  loosened  the  snow  aad 
rocks  from  the  mountainsides,  and  as  they  rolled  down  over  the 
track  they  sometimes  brought  thousands  of  tons  of  loose  earth 
along  and  blocked  the  track  for  miles.  One  of  these  earth  ava- 
lanches came  near  taking  our  train  down  the  embankment  and 
covering  it  in  unknown  depths.  Doubtless  it  was  the  vibrations 
caused  by  the  trains  that  started  the  slide,  but  it  caught  only  the 
rear  end  of  our  car,  cutting  off  the  steps  and  platform  as  com- 
pletely as  if  done  with  sharp  edges. 

The  incident  happened  just  after  dark.  As  danger  whistles 
were  blowing  long  and  loud  from  several  engines  at  a  nearby 
station,  a  passenger  stepped  out  to  learn  the  nature  of  the  danger, 
and  he  disappeared  in  the  darkness  before  it  was  known  that  the 
platform  was  gone.  The  train  had  slowed  down  so  much  that 
the  man  was  not  seriously  hurt,  although  painfully  bruised. 
When  he  was  found  and  brought  into  the  car  he  made  the  some- 
what facetious  remark  that  "When  a  man  hunts  trouble,  he 
usually  finds  it." 

The  Shasta  route  has  since  then  become  one  of  the  greatest 
attractions  for  American  travellers ;  there  is  a  peculiar  charm  in 
gliding  around  the  mountainsides  and  having  the  same  great 
snowy  summits  nodding  into  the  windows  on  either  side  of  the 
car  as  the  road  winds  back  and  forth  until  you  are  ready  to  swear 
that  you  are  going  backward  instead  of  forward,  and  the  same 
tantalizing  peaks  have  a  hypnotizing  way  of  convincing  you  that 
they  are  coming  toward  you  as  you  go  from  them.  They  rise 
up  in  unexpected  directions  and  you  feel  as  if  floating  in  the  air  as 
the  peaks  play  at  hide  and  seek. 

From  Portland  we  circled  Puget  Sound  again,  and  since 
first  wading  over  the  hills  in  Seattle  mud  ten  years  before,  the 
village  had  merged  into  a  city  and  gave  such  promise  as  only 
American  pioneers  can  know  and  understand.  Instead  of  boats 
to  Bellingham  Bay  once  a  fortnight  there  were  daily  steamers, 
and  the  whole  north  shore  was  opening  up  to  the  strong  breeze 
of  progress. 

En  route  to  Hailey  again  we  sojourned  in  Caldwell  for  the 


Hailey  Hot  Springs 


593 


formal  dedicatory  ceremonies  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  and 
the  ordaining  of  Rev.  W.  H.  Boone  as  its  pastor.  It  was  a 
proud  moment  for  the  little  band  who  had  carried  the  work  on 
so  successfully,  and  as  I  read  for  them  the  history  of  the  church 
from  its  inception,  I  felt  that  I  had  not,  and  could  not  give 
those  good  people  half  the  credit  they  deserved. 

We  had  succeeded  in  the  Hailey  Hot  Springs  Hotel  and  had 
Union  Pacific  co-operation  in  bringing  patronage  that  was  in 
itself  a  sufficient  guarantee  of  success.     Mr.  Holcomb,  Vice- 


"  The  Shasta  route  has  become  one  of  the  greatest  attractions  for 
American  travellers" 


President  of  the  Union  Pacific,  Mr.  Cummings,  Assistant  General 
Manager,  and  other  officers  of  the  company,  enjoyed  the  health- 
giving  waters  immensely.  Later,  Mr.  Jay  Gould  and  his  two 
daughters,  Helen  and  Anna,  and  his  two  sons,  Edwin  and  Frank, 
and  General  Manager  S.  H.  H.  Clark  and  wife  were  there  and 
had  a  royal  good  time,  not  only  at  the  springs  but  in  hunting  and 
fishing  and  visiting  the  mines. 

But  with  all  the  co-operation  and  a  season  of  unprecedented 
success,  the  partnership  was  an  unhappy  one,  and  knowing  it  to 
be  especially  unpleasant  for  me,  Pard  disposed  of  his  interest,  and 
we  said  farewell  to  Hailey.  After  a  short  sensational  season  the 
following  year  the  Springs  Hotel  burned  and  was  never  rebuilt. 
38 


CHAPTER   XLIV 
.  ON  THE  WING 

WAS  on  the  verge  of  a  col- 
lapse when  we  left  Idaho,  and 
it  was  thought  best  to  go  down 
to  Clatsop  Beach  on  the  Ore- 
gon coast  with  my  sister  and 
niece  for  companions  while 
Pard  went  to  Bellingham 
Bay.  The  old  steamer 
Thompson  left  Portland  at 
night  and  consumed  twelve 
hours  in  carrying  us  to  the 
landing  a  t  Young's  Bay. 
Then  there  was  a  rail  ride 
of  sixteen  miles  and  two 
miles  more  by  carriage  to 
reach  the  old  Ben  Holliday 
homestead,  which  had  been 
transformed  into  a  summer 
hotel. 

The  pine  and  cypress  trees 
were  in  their  virgin  beauty, 
and  a  long  shady  walk  of 
half  a  mile  to  the  rocky 
beach  was  the  most  attractive 
feature  about  the  place,  unless 
it  was  the  rambling  old  house  itself  and  the  stream  of  clear 
water  beside  it.  We  made  but  a  short  sojourn  there  and  went 
again  to  'Frisco  and  there  experienced  our  first  earthquake.  It 
was  a  serious  one,  throwing  people  out  of  bed,  tipping  over 
furniture,  and  indulging  in  queer  antics  that  are  the  special 
prerogative  of  such  convulsions. 

594 


On  the  Wing 


595 


It  gave  everybody  a  good  scare  at  all  events  and  the  noise 
was  like  the  reverberations  of  thunder.     It  surely  started  us 


Copyrighted  by  Roman  Photo  Co.,  Seattle,  Wash. 

Snoqualmie  Falls 


to  thinking  of  the  north  again,  and  the  steamer  could  not  clear 
the  docks  too  quickly  to  take  me  up  to  Old  Fairhaven  on  the 
north  shore  of  Puget  Sound.     It  is  an  undefinable  condition 
to  long  for  a  quiet  rest  and  yet  be  ever  moving  on  and  on. 
Bellingham  Bay,  on  which  Fairhaven  was  located,  was  a  joy 


59^         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

forever  and  at  all  times.  The  wide  stretch  of  sea,  with  its 
singing  tides,  its  many  green  islands,  and  its  snow-capped  moun- 
tains, its  borders  of  berries  and  blooms,  its  insets  of  ferns  and 
thickets,  its  massive  forest  monarchs  reflected  in  the  usually 
placid  depths,  and  the  streamers  of  steam  and  smoke  trailing 
on  the  wind  from  the  stacks  of  the  floating  engines  of  the  navi- 
gator, made  a  picture  never  to  be  dispelled  from  one's  mind. 
To  me  the  influence  was  soothing  and  hypnotic  in  its  fasci- 
nations. 

While  waiting  for  the  fine  Fairhaven  hotel  to  be  completed 
we  had  to  be  content  at  a  little  tavern  down  on  the  wharf  kept 
by  one  Joe  Morrell,  who  was  an  old  Idahoan  and  a  Haileyite. 
We  found  much  joy  in  life  even  down  among  the  docks  at  the 
water  front.  The  afternoon  sun  beat  into  our  one  west  window 
with  merciless  heat,  while  the  cold  fog  came  trailing  in  at  night 
with  just  as  much  assurance,  but  there  were  compensations. 
There  was  life  and  bustle  about  the  steamships  with  their 
human  freight,  and  the  close  proximity  of  water  craft  was 
especially  fascinating  to  us  who  had  never  lived  at  the  seashore. 

Joe  Morrell  had  a  mind  of  his  own  about  a  hotel  table. 
He  would  not  give  his  boarders  baked  potatoes  because  they 
used  too  much  butter  for  them,  and  he  had  equally  good  reasons 
for  denying  them  other  edibles,  but  it  was  only  a  short  sufferance, 
and  few  there  were  who  blamed  him  for  his  economy. 

The  wharf -rats  were  plentiful,  and  so  were  wood-rats,  and 
every  few  days  there  would  be  a  new  story  about  their  thieving. 
One  man  buried  several  hundred  dollars  in  the  ground  under 
the  floor  of  his  cabin,  and  it  remained  there  for  a  long  time,  but 
one  day  when  he  wanted  some  of  it,  he  dug  in  the  ground  for 
his  treasure  only  to  find  that  it  was  gone.  It  was  learned  then 
that  many  things  were  missing,  knives,  forks,  spoons,  tin  cups, 
balls  of  twine,  harness  buckles,  straps;  and  some  pieces  of  inex- 
pensive jewelry,  etc.,  and  it  was  not  until  several  months  later, 
when  grubbing  out  an  old  stump,  that  he  surprised  himself  by 
finding  his  money  and  other  things  stowed  away  by  the  thrifty 
wood-rats.  They  do  not  steal  things  for  their  use  only,  but 
anything  that  is  portable  they  love  to  carry  off,  because  wood- 
rats,  like  monkeys,  are  born  thieves. 

In  1890  mail  was  still  carried  by  boat  to  the  bay  towns  of 
Fairhaven,  New  Whatcom,  and  Sehome,  and  rivalry  was  su- 


On  the  Wing 


597 


preme  between  these  aspirants  for  municipal  honors.  Each  was 
striving  for  supremacy,  and  neither  of  them  would  yield  its 
name  for  the  sake  of  a  union  of  interests,  until  it  was  proven 
that  none  of  the  names  could  survive,  then  they  were  ultimately 
blended  in  the  one  town  of  Bellingham,  named  for  the  bay 
itself,  on  which  all  three  bordered. 

The  bay  cities  had  resources  to  make  them  grow  rapidly; 
there  were  iron  mines,  marble,  coal,  timber,  and.  stone,  and  their 


"The  very  sands  were  full  of  clams" 

quarries  contributed  to  the  best  structures  of  Seattle  and  Tacoma 
and  even  San  Francisco.  The  vast  products  of  the  sea  were 
easily  obtainable.  There  was  no  direct  sweep  of  the  sea  on  the 
long  shore  line  and  the  deep  waters  of  the  bay,  even  at  low  tide, 
had  the  best  of  anchorage,  which  made  the  locality  the  finest 
harbor  on  the  2500  miles  of  Puget  Sound  shore.  Some  writers 
even  declare  its  fifty  square  miles  of  landlocked  sea  to  be  the 
best  harbor  in  the  world. 

It  was  a  superlative  joy  to  see  Fairhaven  grow  with 
other  guiding  hands  than  ours.  It  was  exhilarating  to  us  who 
had  always  worked  the  laboring  oar  to  hear  of  schemes  set 


598         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

afoot  for  progress  and  various  enterprises  of  the  town  fostered 
and  promoted  by  somebody  else.  What  a  picnic  life  was,  with 
almost  every  resource  for  the  support  and  luxury  of  life  within 
the  hand's  reach,  and  a  climate  that  made  the  earth  abound 
in  riches,  when  compared  to  the  sun-parched  alkali  fiat  where 
Caldwell  was  born  and  nourished,  and  also  those  other  barren 
towns  of  Mountain  Home,  Shoshone,  and  Ontario  on  the  Oregon 
Short  Line.  Abound  the  beautiful  Bellingham  Bay  the  forests 
were  full  of  meat  and  wild  honey,  the  water  full  of  fish,  the  very 
sands  were  full  of  clams,  and  trickling  streams  and  turbulent 
torrents  were  full  of  trout.  What  was  there  for  man  to  do  but 
gather  the  harvest.  Yet  the  promoters  thought  they  had 
troubles,  and  dissension  grew  in  their  ranks. 

The  Fairhaven  Land  Company  built  the  beautiful  stone  hotel 
which  stands  upon  a  conspicuous  eminence  in  the  very  heart  of 
the  town.  It  was  opened  on  the  4th  of  September,  1890,  with 
a  grand  ball  which  had  with  others  in  attendance  the  State 
Press  Association  that  had  been  in  session  on  the  bay. 

Our  suite  of  rooms  in  the  new  hotel  was  in  the  tower  corner 
overlooking  the  two  principal  streets  and  affording  the  finest 
marine  view  to  be  found  on  the  Pacific  Coast.  It  was  a  view 
of  a  vast  sea,  dotted  with  wooded  isles,  circled  by  snowy 
mountain  ranges,  and  with  gliding  steamers  and  saiHng  craft 
to  give  life  to  the  scene. 

The  building  of  the  hotel  was  an  enterprising  movement 
that  did  more  than  all  else  to  build  up  the  town  until  the  Nelson 
Bennett  interest  was  purchased  by  C.  X.  Larrabee.  The  latter 
was  a  man  of  such  pronounced  temperance  ideas  that  he  would 
not  lease  the  house  to  any  one  without  a  contract  not  to  sell 
liquors  of  any  kind,  not  even  for  table  use.  Several  managers 
tried  to  run  the  house  and  failed,  and  now  the  house  for  twelve 
years  has  stood  in  all  its  regal  glory  void  of  all  tenantry  but 
that  of  its  owner  and  his  family.  In  the  hotel's  palmy  days 
after  its  first  opening  Pard  began  writing  a  book  on  the  re- 
sources and  advantages  of  the  locality  for  the  Fairhaven  Land 
Company,  and  he  used  a  special  room  in  the  hotel  as  a  Hterary 
den.  He  labored  on  the  book  early  and  late,  and  one  day  when  the 
manuscript  was  nearly  finished  and  he  was  rejoicing  over  the  near 
completion  of  the  work  some  one  stripped  his  den  of  everything 
in  it.     The  manager  was  called  up  and  his  inquiries  revealed  the 


On  the  Wing 


599 


fact  that  a  new  and  exceedingly  stupid  chambermaid  had  taken 
all  his  reference  papers,  his  tables  of  statistics,  all  of  his  notes,  and 
his  pile  of  completed  manuscript  and  dumped  them  into  the  fur- 
nace. Pard  was  in  a  state  of  collapse  for  a  while  and  my  heart 


A  novel  tiiming  of  Puget  Sound  forest  lands  into  farms 


ached  for  him.  It  was  a  loss  that  no  money  value  could  make 
good,  and  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  re-create  the  work,  for  his 
heart  was  out  of  it. 

Fairhaven  was  built  on  a  series  of  natural  terraces  that 
reached  the  fourth  and  highest  level  about  five  hundred  feet 
above  the  water  line.  Each  terrace  was  high  enough  above 
another  to  hold  its  marine  view  unmolested  and  that  same 


6oo         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


condition  prevailed  on  through  Sehome  to  within  the  Hmits 
of  New  Whatcom.  The  finest  homes  were  built  on  the  higher 
levels  commanding  magnificent  marine  views  in  one  direction, 
and   Happy  Valley,   with  its   circling   mountain  environment, 

on  the  interior  side, 
and  snow-crowned 
Mount  Baker  rising 
above  it  all. 

The  day  will  come 
when  Bellingham  Bay 
will  be  one  of  the 
most  popular  summer 
resorts  in  the  West. 
The  drives  through 
long  wooded  avenues 
reveal  most  gorgeous 
colorings  of  vine- clad 
rocks.  Streams  sing- 
ing their  great  hal- 
lelujahs as  they  burst 
upon  the  view,  forest 
monarchs  clothed  at 
their  roots  with  an 
almost  impenetrable 
confusion  of  wild  ber- 
ry bushes,  ferns  and 
vine  maples,  and  these 
added  to  glimpses  of 
the  bay  are  so  diver- 
sified  and  glorious 
that  one  never  tires 
of  them.  Beautiful 
fresh  water  lakes  are 
abundant  and  vary  in 
size  from  a  mile  in  diameter  to  twelve  miles  in  length,  where 
hours  and  days  and  weeks  can  be  spent  in  angling  or  in  camp- 
fire  bivouacs.  Picnics,  clambakes,  and  other  pleasure  parties 
in  the  open  air  are  joys  unalloyed  in  such  an  environment. 

Fairhaven  was  an  orderly  town  and  it  was  several  years 
old  before  it  had  its  first  tragedy.     Then  a  policeman  was  shot, 


"Long  wooded  avenues  reveal  most  gorgeous 
colorings  of  vine-clad  rocks  " 


On  the  Wing  6oi 

the  bullet  striking  his  watch,  just  over  his  heart;  it  sprung  the 
watch  open,  but  did  not  stop  the  ticking,  then  the  bullet  glanced 
off  and  went  clear  through  the  handle  of  the  policeman's  club. 
The  second  shot,  however,  hit  the  officer  in  the  shoulder,  and 
the  criminal  escaped. 

On  the  night  of  the  29th  of  October  in  1899  the  citizens 
turned  out  to  bum  the  old  town  jail,  which  consisted  of  an  old 
tug  boat  that  had  been  drawn  up  into  Harris  Street,  about 
midway  between  the  Fairhaven  Hotel  and  the  wharf.  It  had 
been  fixed  up  with  iron  gratings  and  the  inmates  made  secure 
enough,  but  they  frequently  accosted  the  people  passing  by. 
The  birds  in  the  cage  were  that  night  removed  to  their  new 
domicile,  and  the  old  landmark  was  burned  away  amid  many 
glad  shouts  of  joy. 

Probably  the  most  depressing  feature  about  the  sound, 
and  yet  one  of  the  most  interesting,  was  the  fog.  Sometimes 
the  heavy  mist  settled  down  like  an  octopus  on  its  prey,  so 
heavy  and  dense  that  it  felt  like  a  real,  tangible  substance  that 
one  would  try  to  push  away.  The  hotel  was  often  above  the 
fog,  and  we  could  see  the  mist  moving  about  on  the  water  like 
a  thing  of  life.  Sometimes  it  was  several  hundred  feet  high, 
and  rolled  in  from  the  sea,  and  hid  the  town  and  the  woods 
and  mountains  in  a  few  minutes.  Then  it  might  rise  and  leave 
the  sunlight  everywhere,  or  it  might  lag  around  for  days.  It 
often  bounded  on  the  water  like  the  motion  of  the  waves,  and 
if  it  crept  away  on  the  surface  it  would  soon  come  back,  but  if 
it  rose  in  its  filmy  monumental  glory  and  melted  away  even 
while  we  were  watching  it,  the  day  would  remain  clear  and  beau- 
tiful. The  fog  was  most  depressing,  but  harmless,  except  to 
mariners,  and  the  whistles  and  horns  from  the  water  kept  alive 
the  fear  of  disaster.  But  it  was  the  winds  that  swept  down 
from  old  Mount  Baker's  icy  fortress  that  made  a  commotion. 
Houses  rocked,  windows  rattled  and  blew  in,  trees  fell,  and 
commerce  rested  while  the  battle  of  nature  raged. 

There  were  so  many  people  from  the  Wood  River  country 
in  Idaho  who  had  taken  up  their  residence  in  the  enchanting 
locality  that  it  was  a  joy  to  see  their  familiar  faces  in  that 
new  land.  Only  the  year  before  the  town  was  but  a  series  of 
stumps  and  many  a  time  we  climbed  from  the  water  front 
hotel  to  sit  on  a  fallen  tree  where  the  fine  hotel  now  stands,  just 


6o2         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

to  view  the  life  and  beauty  of  the  water.  It  was  always  an 
inspiration,  and  made  me  acknowledge  the  place  to  be  the  only 
new  town  that  I  would  again  be  wilHng  to  live  in.  The  song  of 
the  sea  was  in  our  hearts  from  the  first  visit,  and  it  charmed  us 
like  a  magnet  back  to  the  city  that  had  btu-st  its  chrysaHs  while 
we  joyously  watched. 

Business  affairs,  however,  were  not  such  as  interested  Pard 
but  a  few  months  at  that  time.  And  we  left  for  the  East  in  the 
winter  of  '90.  I  saw  my  trunk  standing  on  the  dock  with  others 
to  be   put   aboard,  but    I  did    not  watch  the  loading,  and   on 


An  open  house 

arriving  at  Tacoma,  the  trunk  was  not  to  be  found.  Cap- 
tain O'Brien  of  the  steamer  Washington  declared  that  he 
could  not  understand  why  the  trunk  was  not  there.  We 
waited  a  week  and  it  did  not  come,  and  we  went  on  East 
where  the  trunk  followed  in  a  day  or  two  more.  But,  oh, 
what  a  trunk  and  what  a  horrible  condition  of  contents!  It 
was  no  wonder  that  the  steamship  company  begged  us  to 
go  on  East  with  the  trunk  to  follow;  when  it  was  found  it  was 
no  doubt  held  until  we  were  gone,  to  avoid  a  suit  for  damages. 
The  trunk  had  evidently  been  in  the  bottom  of  the  sound  for 
all  that  week  that  we  had  waited  for  it,  and  the  plight  of  the 
wardrobe  can  better  be  imagined  than  described.     Salt,  sand, 


On  the  Wing 


603 


and  satins,  lingerie,  coats,  and  gowns  were  all  of  a  color.  It 
surely  was  a  woman's  privilege  to  shed  a  few  tears  at  such  a 
time,  for  everything  was  ruined. 

I  went  on  to  Chicago  for  wearing  apparel  but  soon  joined 
Pard  in  Butte  in  that  dreadful  year  when  la  grippe  and  pneu- 
monia were  so  prevalent  and  so  fatal  in  their  results.  We  had 
apartments  at  the  McDermott  Hotel.     So  many  people  died 


The  Butte  shoemaker  and  his  motherless  children 


that  the  undertakers  could  not  take  care  of  them,  and  every 
available  place  was  stored  with  dead  bodies.  It  was  indeed 
a  plague-stricken  city.  Before  we  could  get  away  Pard,  too, 
was  stricken  with  the  malady,  and  once  while  he  was  lying 
in  the  most  critical  condition,  I  looked  down  into  the  street 
and  counted  thirteen  funeral  processions  moving  at  the  same 
time.  It  was  fatal  almost  without  exception  for  one  who 
indulged  in  spirituous  liquors,  and  every  woman  who  had 
pneumonia  that   season   died.     The  housekeeper,   clerks,   bell 


6o4         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

boys,  and  many  guests  in  the  McDermott  were  down,  and 
service  in  the  house  was  almost  impossible.  A  dear  little  baby 
died  in  the  room  next  to  ours,  and  many  and  pitiful  were  the 
cases  of  affliction  and  separation  that  pen  cannot  describe. 

Then,  to  make  matters  worse,  there  were  days  when  the 
heavy  sulphurous  fumes  of  the  smelters  would  settle  over  the 
city,  when  even  well  people  could  scarcely  breathe  without 
gasping.  Butte,  with  all  its  drawbacks  and  discomforts  of  1880, 
was  a  far  healthier  and  more  lovable  city  than  it  was  a  decade 
later,  with  its  death  laden  air  of  1890. 

There  was  one  bright  event  in  that  three  months'  sojourn 
in  Butte,  for  the  Emma  Juch  Opera  Company  was  there  with 
its  own  orchestra  of  ninety  instruments.  The  music  was 
glorious,  but  one's  eyes  needed  to  be  fascinated  on  the  stage, 
for  the  setting  was  fairly  grotesque.  The  boxes  were  lined 
and  finished  across  the  fronts  with  white  marble  oilcloth,  and 
the  face  of  the  balcony  was  only  unpainted  boards.  The  seats 
were  narrow,  small,  and  most  uncomfortable.  The  house  was 
not  heated  sufficiently,  and  the  suffering  with  cold  can  well  be 
imagined  when  the  mercury  stood  at  from  twenty  to  twenty- 
three  degrees  below  zero  at  the  close  of  the  opera  for  the  several 
nights  that  the  company  was  there. 

Across  the  street  from  the  McDermott  Hotel  there  was  a 
little  shoeshop,  where  a  man  made  custom  shoes  and  repaired 
old  ones.  Every  day  I  saw  three  such  neatly  clad  little  girls 
going  in  and  out  so  often  that  they  excited  my  curiosity,  and 
I  learned  that  they  were  the  shoemaker's  children,  and  that, 
having  lost  his  wife,  he  not  only  kept  house  for  his  Httle  girls, 
and  tried  to  be  both  a  father  and  mother  to  them,  but  that  he 
also  did  all  their  sewing  and  laundry  work,  in  addition  to  the 
work  at  his  little  shoe  bench.  To  his  honor  and  credit  it  must 
be  said  that  there  were  no  neater  or  better  dressed  children 
in  the  school  or  on  the  street  than  his  own  three  little  motherless 
girls. 


CHAPTER   XLV 

CAMPING  OUT— LAKE  McDONALD,  ETC. 

"  To  roam  the  bosky  woods  at  will 
To  fish  beside  the  brook, 
Will  fill  your  soul  with  joy  until 
It  comes  your  turn  to  cook." 

%  HERE  is  no  lovelier  spot 
in  all  the  West  than 
Lake  McDonald  in  wes- 
tern Montana,  but  it 
lay  hidden  in  glacial 
shadows  many  years 
after  the  railway  passed 
near  it  before  any  attempt  was  made  to  make  the  lake  accessible. 
We  had  been  repeatedly  misinformed  about  the  route  but 
wotdd  not  give  up  without  one  more  effort  to  get  there.  Officials 
of  the  Great  Northern  Railroad  Company  gave  ample  assurance 
of  a  stage  line  from  Belton  over  to  Lake  McDonald  where  they 
also  said  there  were  good  hotel  accommodations. 

Rolling  away  from  the  crowded  city  the  cool  breezes  from 
the  Mississippi,  coupled  with  the  quiet  life  of  its  borders,  were 
soothing  in  effect,  but  it  was  not  until  spinning  over  the  Rockies 
that  we  felt  the  desired  change  and  could  imagine  the  laughing 
eddies  of  every  creek  full  of  trout  just  waiting  for  the  fly. 

How  fine  it  was  to  go  in  a  Pullman  car  through  that  great 
land  where,  but  a  few  years  before,  we  had  travelled  the  length 
of  every  stage  line  from  Omaha  to  Puget  Sound  to  learn  whether 
the  country  would  sustain  a  railroad  to  the  great  waterways 
of  the  Northwest.  And  already  many  glinting  steel  bands 
reached  the  great  tidal  shores  and  sent  their  ships  on  to  Oriental 
lands,  and  this  Great  Northern  road  was  the  fourth  to  reach 
the  Pacific  since  our  pioneering  began. 

Through  the  garden  lands  of  North  Dakota  we  caught  just 

605 


6o6         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

a  glimpse  of  the  famous  house  that  has  been  in  five  different 
States  yet  its  foundation  has  never  been  changed.  The  children 
that  were  raised  there  were  born  in  three  different  States,  so 
rapidly  did  conditions  change  in  a  few  years.  Oregon  once  in- 
cluded the  Territories  of  Oregon,  Washington,  Idaho,  and  a  part 
of  Montana  and  Wyoming  and  the  Dakotas.  It  was  reached 
only  by  the  Isthmus  of  Panama  or  by  Cape  Horn,  and  in  later 
years  by  the  overland  prairie  schooner  and  Concord  coach. 

It  was  hard  to  believe  my  own  eyes  when  I  saw  the  city 
of  Great  Falls,  with  all  its  stately  buildings  and  city  airs,  almost 
on  the  spot  where  our  horses  got  away  and  left  us  forty  miles 
from  the  nearest  house  with  not  even  a  trail  to  lead  us  from 
the  wilderness;  but  again  the  train  moved  on  crossing  the  old 
stage  road  many  times  through  the  golden  hills  of  Montana. 

Bel  ton  was  called  only  too  soon  and  hours  of  reminiscence 
were  blended  into  new  experiences.  We  were  dropped  off 
in  time  to  see  our  baggage  rolling  down  a  steep  embankment, 
and  before  we  could  get  our  breath  the  train  was  o^  like  a  flash 
while  every  hope  on  earth  seemed  to  fade  as  the  rear  car  vanished 
in  the  distance.  After  all  the  assurances  given  us  in  St.  Paul 
there  was  not  even  a  platform  and  we  slid  down  the  grade  with 
as  little  dignity  as  our  baggage  and  with  no  chance  to  get  aboard 
again  before  the  train  was  off.  Making  inquiries  for  the  stage 
office,  etc.,  we  were  given  the  ha,  ha.  One  man  stared  and 
grinned  until  Pard  said  he  was  demented.  That  stirred  the 
grinning  man's  metal  somewhat  and  he  said,  "No,  stranger,  I 
hain't  no  fool  nor  there  hain't  no  stage  to  Lake  McDonald  and 
there  hain't  no  road  nuther. " 

Further  urging  developed  the  facts  that  it  was  half  a  mile 
to  the  river,  no  bridge  over  the  river,  and  a  poor  trail  full  of 
fallen  trees  for  two  and  a  half  miles  "tother  side  of  the  river" 
to  the  lake. 

Two  men  were  finally  found  to  take  us  across  the  Flathead 
River  and  show  us  the  beginning  of  the  trail.  The  craft  was 
only  a  scooped-out  log  and  five  passengers  greatly  overloaded 
the  dangerous  pirogue.  We  were  repeatedly  cautioned  not  to 
make  any  movements  to  influence  the  canoe,  and  I  fairly  held 
my  breath  for  fear  we  would  not  balance.  But  with  all  care 
possible  there  was  a  critical  time  when  it  seemed  as  if  we  would 
be  rolled  over  into  the  swift  turbulent  whirlpools  which  resented 


r 


Camping  Out  Near  Lake  McDonald      607 

our  intrusion.  Several  attempts  were  made  before  a  landing 
was  secured  and  the  dim  trail  pointed  out.  We  watched  oiu* 
boatmen  recross  the  river  and  wished  we  too  were  safely  back 
on  the  other  side,  then  resolutely  turned  our  faces  into  the  black 
heart  of  the  dense  forest. 


Mr.  Kelsey  estimating  axe  handles 


At  the  first  little  opening  where  we  could  see  God's  smile 
in  the  blue  sky  through  the  treetops,  we  sat  down  on  a  log  to 
express  our  feelings  toward  those  Great  Northern  officials  who 
had  so  grossly  misrepresented  conditions  and  led  us  into  such 
a  wilderness  with  night  closing  about  us. 

Horatio  Kelsey,  a  Connecticut  manufacturer  of  axe  handles 
and  such  like  useful  implements,  was  so  overcome  by  the  magni- 


6o8         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

tude  of  the  trees  that  he  lost  sight  of  all  discomforts  in  making 
estimates  on  how  many  handles  a  tree  would  make  and  the 
cash  value  of  every  tall  sentinel.  Pard  and  I  were  not  inter- 
ested in  axe  handles  in  general,  but  we  wanted  to  swing  an 
axe  over  the  pay  of  at  least  one  Great  Northern  official. 

It  was  friend  Kelsey's  maiden  trip  to  the  great  West  and 
he  accepted  every  adventure  with  all  the  exuberance  of  a  boy 
with  his  first  red  topped  boots.  The  merry  twinkle  in  his  eye 
told  how  he  viewed  the  present  dilemma,  but  had  he  lost  his 


**Lake  McDonald  lay  before  us  in  all  its  scenic  opulence" 

temper  and  growled  over  the  situation  I  am  sure  we  would  have 
thrown  him  in  the  river. 

To  be  in  the  open  air  and  scent  the  sweet  pine  was  a  joy  in 
itself  and  in  spite  of  the  hard  trail  a  glad  shout  broke  the  silence 
when  Lake  McDonald  lay  before  us  in  all  its  scenic  opulence. 
For  twelve  miles  it  stretched  its  mobile  length  at  the  base  of 
glacier- bearing  mountains  muffled  on  the  lower  slopes  with 
dense  green  forests.  The  snow  caps  kissed  the  sky  that  spread 
its  rosy  blushes  over  the  surface  of  the  water,  and  the  long 
shadows  of  the  dying  day  were  folding  the  peaceful  nooks  in 
the  mysterious  robes  of  night,  while  the  moon  hung  low  from 
a  cloudless  sky. 


Camping  Out  Near  Lake  McDonald       609 

The  "fine  hotel"  we  were  to  find  at  the  lake  consisted  of  a 
log  cabin  about  fifteen  feet  square,  with  parlor,  bedrooms,  dining- 
room,  kitchen,  and  pantries  all  in  one  room.  There  was  but 
one  bedstead  and  that  was  home-made  with  boards  a  foot  wide 
laid  lengthwise  six  inches  apart;  over  these  boards  were  some 
deer  skins  but  no  springs,  or  mattress,  or  feather  bed  to  disguise 
the  hard  side  of  the  boards.  A  blooming  red  drapery  hung 
from  the  ceiling  around  the  bed  and  this  private  apartment 
was  assigned  to  Pard  and  myself  after  I  declined  much  urging 
to  share  it  with  the  landlord's  wife  who  was  a  native  daughter 
of  our  continent. 

Between  the  red  curtains  and  cook  stove  was  the  bed  of 
the  host  and  hostess,  with  only  a  blanket  between  them  and 
the  floor,  but  their  sleep  was  as  sound  and  sonorous  as  if  they 
had  been  in  the  most  luxurious  quarters.  Close  by  on  a  large 
pile  of  deer  skins  was  friend  Kelsey.  The  whole  cabin  vibrated 
with  every  breath  he  drew,  and  when  he  expelled  the  air  from 
his  lungs  it  came  with  a  "phew"  as  if  he  were  blowing  a  fog 
horn,  but  at  all  events  he  was  fortifying  himself  for  whatever 
the  morrow  might  bring.  In  the  only  remaining  comer,  on 
the  floor,  was  a  sturdy  frontiersman,  a  regular  boarder  and 
lodger  while  building  a  cabin  for  himself  in  the  nearby  woods. 

When  the  morning  light  broke  through  the  column  of  busy 
mosquitoes  that  had  been  on  duty  the  whole  night,  we  gladly 
pulled  our  bodies  out  from  between  the  boards  and  hastened 
into  the  bright  warm  sunshine  on  the  lake  shore. 

But  ye  gods  of  the  rod — what  fishing!  Hands  trembling 
with  joyous  excitement  knotted  the  lines  and  hooks  most  ex- 
asperatingly,  but  soon  many  colored  flies  were  dancing  on  the 
ripples  and  scarcely  would  a  fly  touch  the  gleaming  water  ere 
it  was  seized  by  a  hungry  trout  who  started  at  once  on  its 
race  for  life.  Its  run  was  only  equalled  by  the  blood  in  the 
fisherman's  veins.  The  whole  world  was  forgotten  and  lost 
in  the  mad  joy  of  the  hour,  and  there  was  not  a  day  in  all  the 
summer  that  followed  so  full  of  like  excitement  and  rich  success. 
A  two-  or  three-pound  trout  can  make  more  sport  in  a  minute 
on  the  end  of  a  good  line  fastened  to  a  five-ounce  rod  than  one 
can  forget  in  a  lifetime. 

When  our  own  camp  equipment  was  brought  in  life  was 
an  ideal  of  nomadic  bliss,  and  in  spite  of  the  discomforts  and 


6io        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

dangerous  experiences  of  that  first  trip  to  Lake  McDonald  it  be- 
came a  favorite  camping  ground  when  there  was  a  real  bridge 
across  the  river  and  a  stage  running  to  the  lake,  about 
seventeen  years  after  our  first  effort  to  reach  the  place. 

One  morning  when  everybody  was  soundly  sleeping,  Charley 
Howe,  resident  guide,  and  our  genial  host  as  well,  called  out  in 
an  agonized  whisper  to  "Get  out  o'  the  back  side  of  the  tent 
quicker  'n  lightnin' ;  biggest  elk  in  the  mountains  takin'  water 
at  the  lake."  Then  he  added  most  impatiently,  "Oh!  durn 
it,  hurry  up."  He  was  so  used  to  sleeping  in  his  clothes  that 
he  had  no  patience  to  wait  for  a  man  to  pull  on  his  trousers. 


The  "fine  hotel"  consisted  of  a  log  cabin  about  fifteen  feet  square 

He  already  had  the  tent  pins  pulled  at  the  back  of  the  tent 
and  Pard  rolled  out  with  his  rifle  and  a  heart  thumping  with 
buck  fever.  "  Oh,  blast  it !  what  are  you  waitin'  for;  shoot.  Quick 
now,"  cried  the  guide  and  a  true  shot  rang  through  the  air,  the 
buck  plunged  into  a  thicket,  and  a  moment  of  dismay  followed. 
The  guide  spoke  assuringly  and  said:  "Guess  you  've  got  'im, " 
and  they  followed  hurriedly  into  the  woods  with  apprehension 
dragging  at  Pard's  heels.  But  the  great  elk  had  fallen  stunned 
as  he  reached  the  thicket  and  taking  the  guide's  trusty  knife 
Pard  hurried  to  put  the  poor  beast  out  of  misery.  He  had  no 
sooner  thrust  the  knife  through  the  skin  than  he  was  turned  in 
a  complete  summersault  with  the  knife  flying  far  away  and  the 
rifle  out  of  reach.     The  unexpected  onslaught  was  like  a  direful 


Camping  Out  Near  Lake  McDonald       6ii 

nightmare.  The  razor-like  hoofs  of  the  frenzied  animal  were 
already  over  him  with  his  eyes  like  coals  of  fire  glittering  from 
his  mad  suffering.  It  seemed  as  if  Howe  was  an  eternity  coming 
to  the  rescue — but  his  shot  rang  true  and  the  animal  fell  in  a 
limp  mass  upon  poor  Pard.  The  incident  was  almost  a  repetition 
of  the  experience  in  Yellowstone  Park,  but  this  time  the  animal 
required  a  second  ball  to  bring  him  down. 


"Life  was  an  ideal  of  nomadic  bliss" 

The  incident  gave  the  men  the  hunting  fever  and  nothing  but 
bear,  big  black,  cinnamon  or  grizzly,  would  do.  They  went  direct 
to  the  wild  haunts,  some  ten  miles  distant,  of  a  famous  grizzly 
who  was  the  terror  of  prospectors,  trappers,  and  campers  in  a  wide 
region  round  about.  They  killed  a  deer  the  first  afternoon,  and 
after  a  big  feast  fixed  up  their  lunches  and  equipment  for  a  day- 
light start  the  following  morning  and  turned  in  to  sleep  the  sound 
sleep  of  the  o'er  tired  and  dream  the  dreams  of  conquerors. 
Some  hours  later  they  were  aroused  by  the  running  and  snorting 
of  the  stampeded  ponies,  and  in  the  dim  light  of  the  expiring  camp- 
fire  were  horrified  to  see  Mr.  Grizzly,  of  the  proportions  of  an 
elephant,  starting  off  with  the  only  sack  of  flour.     By  the  time 


6i2         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

they  could  reach  their  guns  he  had  vanished,  leaving  only  a  white 
trail  of  the  escaping  flour,  which  they  followed  off  into  the  black 
forest  until  it  was  obliterated  by  a  snowstorm.  Returning  wet, 
tired,  and  disgusted,  they  found  the  ponies  gone,  with  every  ounce 
of  food  even  to  the  lunches  they  had  so  carefully  put  up,  and  the 
remains  of  the  deer  and  the  syrup  in  the  can  licked  up  clean. 
There  was  nothing  left  to  do  but  finish  up  bruin  in  their  most 
eloquent  literary  style,  shoulder  their  guns  and  camp  equipage, 
and  sneak  sadly  back  to  Lake  McDonald  afoot.  Any  one  who 
wants  a  fight  on  short  notice  needs  only  to  softly  mention  the 
incident  in  the  presence  of  any  of  the  participants. 

Pard  had  to  go  outside  for  some  needed  supplies  and  he 
headed  for  the  nearest  place,  which  was  McCarthyville,  where 
he  found  a  few  straggling  huts  and  tents  that  made  up  that 
hurrah  town.  He  went  to  the  most  pretentious  structure  having 
a  tavern  sign  and  found  the  usual  combination  of  barroom, 
dance  hall,  and  kitchen  on  the  ground  floor.  Lying  on  the  end 
of  the  bar  was  the  open  register  wherein  he  wrote  his  name 
and  asked  for  a  room.  A  very  large,  red-faced  man  informed 
him  in  a  supercilious  way  that  he  had  nothing  left  but  the 
bridal  chamber,  which  was  spoken  for,  but  if  they  did  n't  come 
mighty  quick  he  would  let  the  room  go. 

Assurances  that  he  could  get  along  with  something  less 
luxurious  than  the  bridal  chamber  brought  forth  the  frank 
suggestion  that  he  "didn't  look  it."  The  proprietor  further 
suggested  that  he  "might  as  well  have  the  best  the  country 
afforded. "  During  this  colloquy  he  noticed  a  trio  of  very  tough 
citizens  taking  special  interest  in  his  autograph,  hearing  one 
of  them  say  in  a  disappointed  way  that  "  He  is  one  of  them  there 
smart  Alecks  that  don't  purpose  to  let  you  know  who  he  is." 
This  was  not  the  first  time  attention  had  been  called  to  his 
peculiar  chirography  and  he  would  have  relished  the  joke  ex- 
ceedingly had  he  felt  a  little  more  at  ease  as  to  the  tendencies 
of  the  critics. 

Now  McCarthyville  was  not  as  safe  as  a  New  England 
village;  in  fact  it  was  noted  all  over  the  western  half  of  the 
Union  as  being  a  trifle  the  roughest  place  on  a  Rocky  Mountain 
rail  route.  A  necessary  adjunct  to  rapid  railway  construction, 
it  sprung  up  in  a  night  and  disappeared  with  the  same  celerity. 
An  army  of  railway  graders,  woodsmen,  track  layers,  and  railway 


Camping  Out  Near  Lake  McDonald       613 

operatives  made  it  a  supply  point,  which  it  remained  while 
the  Great  Northern  was  being  built.  Toughs  of  every  type 
congregated  from  all  over  the  West  to  add  terror  to  the  settle- 
ment, and  incidentally  rob  or  kill,  in  order  to  secure  their  share 
of  the  wealth  that  the  great  work  was  putting  into  circulation. 
It  had  been  a  dull  day  when  McCarthyville  didn't  afford  a 
killing  or  a  lynching,  therefore  it  is  gratifying  to  know  that, 
in  some  cases  at  least,  the  right  parties  inhabit  the  lonely  grave- 


"  The  great  elk  had  fallen  stunned  " 

yard,  which  is  now  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  and  doleful 
reminders  of  those  flush  days. 

Pard  looked  the  town  over  somewhat  nervously  and  re- 
tiiming  asked  mine  host  whether  he  was  to  have  the  bridal 
chamber.  He  answered  cheerily,  ''Yes  siree:  they  can't  expect 
me  to  hold  a  room  like  that  on  an  uncertainty.  A  dollar  please. 
That 's  right ;  now  go  up-stairs  to  number  49  and  make  your- 
self to  home.  Can't  miss  it;  first  room  to  the  right  at  the 
head  of  the  stairs;  you  '11  find  light  and  everything  all  right; 
if  you  don't,  jest  ring." 

Pard  climbed  up  a  narrow  rickety  stairway  and  found  a 
long,  low,  dimly  lighted  room  with  canvas  roof.     Three  rows 


6i4        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

of  rough  board  bunks  ranged  the  entire  length  of  the  room, 
each  bunk  having  its  number  painted  on  the  headboard  in 
large  figures,  number  49,  the  "bridal  chamber,"  not  differing 
from  the  rest.  It  was  grim,  coarse,  McCarthyville  humor.  The 
bunk  had  a  thin  straw  pillow,  one  blanket  for  a  mattress,  and 
one  for  a  cover.  The  night  was  cold  and  frosty  and  Pard  got 
in  between  the  blankets  without  undressing. 

A  few  others  had  already  retired  and  were  singing  nasal 


Pard  in  the  bridal  chamber  at  McCarthyville 


melodies  in  various  keys  and  the  notes  swelled — until  more 
than  fifty  were  sleeping  as  best  they  could  with  the  night  revelry 
ringing  in  their  ears.  Pard  was  suddenly  startled  by  something 
passing  along  over  his  body  like  a  man's  hand  tugging  at  his 
blankets.  He  soon  discovered  it  was  the  landlord  leaning  over 
him  and  trying  to  pull  off  the  covering. 

Anticipating  ^robbery  or  something  worse  his  revolver  was 
wheeled  like  a  wink  into  the  man's  face.  Then  came  a  mut- 
tered call  not  to  shoot  and  the  same  voice  added  that  it  was  so 
awful  cold  he  must  get  a  blanket  from  somebody  and  he  shuffled 
down  the  aisle  until  he  could  strip  some  poor  devil  of  his  blanket 
which  he  rolled  himself  in  with  a  snore  of  content  and  grunted 
himself  to  sleep. 


Camping  Out  Near  Lake  McDonald      615 

When  Pard  came  back  to  camp  he  said  if  any  one  else  had 
to  go  on  a  like  errand  he  better  grease  himself  so  he  could  be 
sure  of  slipping  out  of  McCarthyville  alive. 

The  climbing  of  the  glacier  mountains  adjacent  to  Lake 
McDonald,  and  canoeing  on  the  Flathead  and  Kootenai  rivers, 
stopping  in  the  primitive  little  towns  of  Columbia  Falls  and 
Kalispell  completed  our  explorations  around  Lake  McDonald 
for  that  year. 

When  we  were  ready  to  leave  Lake  McDonald,  Mr.  Howe 
said  that  he  and  his  man  would  take  us  by  boat. 

"What,"  I  cried,  "do  you  mean  to  take  us  in  those  little 
boats  through  those  wild  rapids  down  the  outlet  of  this  lake 
to  the  Flathead  River  then  up  to  the  station?" 

"Oh,  yes,"  he  replied  with  aggravating  coolness,  "it's  only 
'bout  four  mile  or  so." 

One  may  love  adventure,  ride  the  cow  catcher  of  an  engine, 
go  in  a  bucket  down  a  long  tramway,  or  try  snowshoes  on  a 
mountain  trail,  but  to  chance  one's  life  like  that  seemed  like 
daring  fate,  and  there  seemed  a  certainty  of  some  one  being  a 
hero  or  perishing  in  the  attempt  before  the  day  was  over. 

It  would  not  do  to  show  the  white  feather  so  early  in  the 
season  and  I  made  a  grand  effort  to  swallow  the  intruder  in 
my  throat,  then  called  out  merrily  that  it  would  be  glorious 
sport.  The  echo  fell  upon  my  own  ear  like  a  minor  chord  but 
no  one  seemed  to  notice  it  and  preparations  were  begun  for  the 
departure. 

At  the  head  of  the  outlet  of  the  lake  the  boats  were  turned 
stem  down  and  as  the  men  wished  to  fish,  a  bag  of  rocks  was 
dropped  overboard  and  dragged  at  anchor  to  retard  progress 
over  the  rapids.  It  was  a  bang  on  the  bank,  a  dash  on  the 
rocks,  shooting  a  rapid,  plunging  through  cascades,  a  whirl 
under  the  willows,  or  a  crush  between  logs,  one  after  another 
in  rapid  succession,  as  we  were  buffeted  like  feathers  on  the  angry 
waters.  At  last  the  boats  shot  into  a  quiet  pool  near  the  con- 
fluence of  the  two  streams  and  there  was  one  that  said  "Amen" 
though  the  trip  was  but  half  over. 

While  making  a  cast  of  the  flies  from  along  shore  in  these 
seductive  waters  the  gentlemen  became  separated  and  a  fearful 
tragedy  was  narrowly  averted.  Fred  James,  of  Chicago,  in 
frantic  endeavors  to  land  two  big  trout  at  the  same  time  slipped 


6i6  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

on  the  smooth  spray-covered  boulders,  turning  completely 
around  in  his  fall,  and  was  found  by  Pard,  just  in  the  nick  of 
time,  lying  helplessly  on  his  back,  his  portly  form  wedged  tightly 
between  two  rocks,  with  head  and  shoulders  downward  in  the 
icy  current. 

The  boatman  surprised  us  by  saying  the  gentlemen  would 
have  to  walk  the  rest  of  the  way  but  he  and  his  assistant  could 
take  the  boat  with  baggage  and  "the  woman"  all  right.  It  was 
easy  to  see  the  relief  and  pleasure  it  was  for  the  gentlemen  to 
be  out  on  their  feet  and  their  encouraging  remarks  to  me  from 


Shooting  the  rapids  of  the  Flathead 

the  forks  of  the  river  would  have  made  a  good  sized  book. 
We  were  soon  in  the  whirlpools.  With  a  real  giant  in  strength 
and  nerve  standing  in  each  end  of  the  boat  to  pole  the  craft, 
we  slipped  into  the  middle  of  the  stream,  then  darted  here  and 
there  to  find  the  smoother  currents ;  but  as  the  banks  came  nearer 
together  the  waters  grew  more  turbulent  and  progress  could 
only  be  made  by  madly  rushing  into  the  fiercest  of  the  cataracts. 
Ever  and  anon  one  or  the  other  of  the  men  was  above  his  waist 
in  the  water;  they  would  leap  out  to  lighten  quickly  one  end 
or  the  other  of  the  boat  that  it  might  rise  over  some  huge  rock. 
At  times  the  boat  and  its  load  would  be  drenched  as  it  dipped 
and  rolled  and  was  tossed  about  as  a  child  would  toss  a  ball. 
It  was  no  child's  play,  however,  to  take  a  boat  safely  through 


Camping  Out  Near  Lake  McDonald      617 

such  rapids  and  in  spite  of  the  boatmen  saying  they  were  used 
to  it  and  rather  liked  it,  it  was  with  a  glad  heart  that  I  stepped 
on  land  in  full  sympathy  with  the  Bostonian  who  returned  from 
an  ocean  trip  and  said  that  he  would  forevermore  stay  on  "terra 
cotta. "  But  right  here  let  me  say  that  if  any  reader  wishes 
to  enjoy  to  the  limit  boating  and  fishing  on  one  of  the  finest 
mountain  streams  in  the  world  let  him  entrust  himself  to  the 
safe  guidance  of  Charley  Howe  on  Flathead  River. 

The  point  on  the  railroad  was  only  a  switching  station, 
but  as  the  men  were  drenched  through  they  felt  the  need  of  a 
fire  to  dry  their  clothing  before  proceeding  further.  The  man 
in  charge  of  the  section  house  said  he  had  a  stove  but  had  just 
received  a  telegram  to  have  the  stove  ready  to  be  taken  up 
by  No.  9  when  it  came  along  and  he  expected  it  every  minute. 
"Of  course,"  he  humorously  added,  "if  you  build  a  fire  in  it,  you 
are  five  to  one  and  I  can't  help  myself." 

The  suggestion  was  quickly  followed.  In  a  wondrously  few 
minutes  the  stove  was  flaming  red  and  when  No.  9  blew  its 
long  whistle  the  boys  chucked  in  more  wood  and  kept  it  blazing. 
The  conductor  of  No.  9  came  in  with  a  mouth  full  of  bad  words 
and  demanded  the  stove.  They  told  him  to  take  it  right  along; 
there  it  was  and  no  one  was  going  to  hold  it.  The  men  were 
dodging  about  the  room  less  than  half  clad,  turning  one  article 
and  another  in  the  drying  process,  and  having  such  sport  in 
their  efforts  that  conductor  of  No.  9  went  out  with  a  growl 
equal  to  an  old  grizzly  but  not  half  as  dangerous,  and  only  the 
grumbling  wheels  of  the  freight  train  smothered  his  mutterings 
as  it  went  on  its  way  without  the  stove. 

In  later  years,  and  to  this  day,  good  Mrs.  Dow  in  her  tavern 
at  Belton  confides  the  management  after  10  P.  M.  to  what  she 
calls  her  "Silent  Clerk."  On  retiring  she  leaves  a  list  of  her 
vacant  rooms  pinned  to  her  hotel  register,  with  all  doors  open 
or  unlocked  and  ample  light  at  hand,  so  that  each  belated 
traveller  can  locate  himself.  Her  experience  well  illustrates  how 
times  have  changed  since  Pard  dropped  into  McCarthyville,  for 
she  says  very  seldom  has  her  trust  thus  reposed  been  ill  requited 
by  the  many  strangers  who  have  thus  briefly  managed  her 
hostelry.  It  reminds  me  of  the  custom  of  the  butcher  at 
Bonanza  City,  Idaho,  who,  when  he  was  temporarily  absent, 
left  on  the  block  of  his  wide  open  and  well  stocked  market  the 
sign:  "  Please  help  yourself  and  leave  the  money  on  the  block." 


CHAPTER  XLVI 
BRITISH  COLUMBIA.     FIVE  HUNDRED  MILES  OF  CANOEING 


was  the  summer  of  1893, 
when  the  Great  Northern 
Railroad  was  finished  to 
lliljlj^  Puget  Sound,  that  we  left 
Lake  McDonald  for  a 
canoe  trip  in  British  Co- 
lumbia. Crossing  the  pan- 
handle of  Idaho  we  soon 
entered  our  favorite  State  of  Washington  and  en  route  caught 
a  quick  midnight  gHmpse  of  Spokane  with  its  many  bright 
lights,  confirming  the  story  of  its  being  the  best  illum- 
inated city  in  the  United  States.  This  brilliant  Ughting  was  the 
best  advertising  the  town  ever  did.  It  is  a  pity  that  any  city 
takes  a  backward  step  in  such  good  work.  Crimes  were  few 
and  people  were  happy  and  safe  at  any  hour  of  the  night  and  the 
City  Dads  of  Spokane  better  pass  the  hat  and  restore  the  prestige 
of  their  charge  to  its  former  glory.  The  midnight  train  west  from 
Spokane  reached  that  noted  switchback  on  the  Cascade  Range 
which  was  then  the  climax  of  engineering  skill  in  the  full  open 
day.  The  Great  Northern  rails  were  laid  in  zigzag  lines  like  an 
old  rail  fence  except  that  the  angles  were  longer  and  more  obtuse, 
and  at  one  time  from  the  top  angle  one  could  look  down  upon  five 
rail  lines  where  the  trains  went  back  and  forth  to  reach  the  sum- 
mit, and  then  it  was  the  same  to  get  down  to  water  grade  again. 
The  two  sides  were  so  near  alike,  with  their  little  red  station- 
houses  at  the  lower  end,  that  one  passenger  declared  the  train 
was  unable  to  get  up  the  mountain  and  it  had  gone  back  to  the 
starting  place.  There  were  no  snow-sheds  or  snow  fences  to 
obstruct  the  views  and  every  moment  in  crossing  the  great 
divide  was  a  supreme  delight. 

Speeding  from  those  glorious  summits,  and  gliding  down 

618 


British  Columbia  619 

in  the  valley  to  the  shining  tide  waters,  we  heard  the  rippling 
laughter  of  the  waves  as  they  teased  the  pebbles  on  the 
beach  and  it  renewed  the  longing  for  the  rollicking  canoe  that  we 
might  penetrate  the  inlets  and  coves  of  that  vast  Northwest 
shoreline. 

"Oh,  where  is  the  land  that  is  fairer  than  this,"  was  the  song 
upon  the  lips  of  all,  as  we  again  gazed  upon  the  slopes  of  Fair- 
haven,  now  known  as  Bellingham.  Friend  Kelsey  was  so  cap- 
tivated by  the  picturesque  scenery  that  he  told  his  fair  hostess 
when  her  household  affairs  went  wrong  if  she  would  but  rest 
her  eyes  for  a  moment  on  the  exqiiisite  panorama  before  her, 
that  it  must  at  once  reverse  the  engine  of  bad  luck  and  turn  every- 
thing to  sunshine  again.  We  left  him  on  the  bay  still  gazing  at 
the  trees  like  an  enraptured  schoolboy  while  Mr.  and  Mrs.  H.  L. 
Dickinson,  better  known  by  their  tillicum  names  of  "Dick"  and 
"Nixie,"  joined  our  camping  party  for  a  long  cruise  into  British 
Columbia. 

It  was  a  curious  pile  of  stuff  that  made  up  the  camp  outfit,  and 
it  did  not  look  at  all  as  if  we  were  heading  for  Monterey  or  New- 
port. The  trainmen  looked  askance  at  it  and  there  were  some 
curious  remarks  and  knowing  nods  toward  it.  Aboard  the  train 
it  was  most  carefully  inspected  by  the  various  customs  officers 
as  we  crossed  the  borderline  into  British  Columbia  from  where 
we  were  to  take  canoes. 

Some  one  had  told  the  inspector  that  he  would  find  our 
baggage  a  regular  "Pandora's  box,"  and  after  delaying  the 
train  about  half  an  hour  he  came  back  and  said  he  could  n't 
find  anything  of  that  "Pandory  box"  and  that  one  of  the  party 
would  have  to  go  forward  and  get  it,  A  general  laugh  made 
his  English  lordship  so  angry  for  a  moment  that  he  would 
have  arrested  everybody  if  he  could  have  invented  an  ex- 
cuse. His  good  temper  was  finally  restored  and  an  explanation 
of  "Pandora's  box " followed.  "By  Jove,"  he  said,  "this  is  no 
Pandory  box  I  'm  in;  there  is  no  hope  at  the  bottom  for  me; 
I  've  got  to  go  and  set  'em  up  for  the  whole  gang;  it 's  a  blooming 
shame  to  play  a  fellow  so,  don't  cher  know." 

We  left  Vancouver  well  outfitted  for  the  long  cruise  up  to 
Harrison  Lake  and  wherever  fancy  might  point,  and  as  we  pad- 
dled up  the  great  river  we  grew  more  and  more  enthusiastic  and 
every  camping  place  grew  more  charming. 


620         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

The  Fraser  River  has  been  the  favorite  of  all  Western  water- 
ways with  the  generations  of  savages,  who,  on  account  of  its 
genial  clime  and  lavish  stores  of  game  and  fish,  could  nowhere 
so  easily  exist.  The  Hudson  Bay  Company  never  found  a  more 
important  avenue  for  their  richly  freighted  batteaux  than  this 
long  stretch  of  river  into  the  interior,  when  nearly  a  century  ago 
they  so  thoroughly  appropriated  its  unrivalled  game  fields. 
Back  in  the  fifties  its  rushing  commerce  was  the  talk  of  the  coast 


"The  history  of  the  'Beaver'  was  an  unending  romance" 

like  that  of  the  Sacramento  in  California's  golden  days.  Only 
degenerate  and  unromantic  remnants  of  its  once  thrifty  tribes 
remain;  the  fur  hunter's  business  is  pushed  far  to  the  North;  the 
hordes  of  gold  seekers  have  vanished  with  their  millions  of 
treasure;  and  the  railway  is  at  last  stimulating  its  broad  fertile 
valley  and  its  highlands,  rich  in  minerals,  timber,  and  grazing, 
to  a  growth  that  will  endure. 

The  steamer  Beaver,  whose  wreck  we  found  lying  just  out- 
side of  Vancouver,  was  the  first  steamboat  to  plough  the  waters 
of  the  Pacific  Ocean.  The  Beaver  was  built  near  London, 
in  1835,  by  Boulton  and  Watt,  the  first  firm  to  manufacture 
steamboats,  and  her  launching  was  witnessed  by  King  WilHam 


British  Columbia  621 

IV,  and  60,000  of  his  subjects.  She  made  the  perilous  voyage 
from  London,  around  the  Horn  to  the  Columbia  River  in  162 
days,  astonishing  the  natives  at  Astoria,  Oregon,  which  was  her 
destination.  This  pioneer  ship  for  fifty  years  sought  the  inlets, 
rivers,  and  out-of-the-way  nooks  of  the  newest  Northwest. 
From  the  first  the  history  of  the  Beaver  was  an  unending  romance, 
playing  a  most  important  part  in  north  Pacific  discovery  and 
development,  not  infrequently  marked  by  thrilling  encounters 
with  hostile  natives. 

Pulling  up  the  Fraser,  we  saw  much  of  the  salmon  fishing 
industry.  It  was  at  every 
stage,  from  the  lonely  Chi- 
nook Indian  with  spear 
poised  for  his  single  victim 
to  the  miles  of  netting 
that  gathered  them  by 
thousands,  and  there  were 
fleets  of  boats  and  great 
buildings  and  docks  of 
incorporated  fisheries  ^  ^^^^^  ^^^^  ^^p 

whose  product   annually 

reached  millions  of  cans  of  salmon.  Salmon  "runs"  are 
grouped  in  cycles  of  four  years  and  this  was  the  fourth  year, 
when,  as  the  common  saying  is,  they  so  glut  the  streams  that 
one  can  walk  across  on  their  backs,  and  they  were  so  numer- 
ous that  we  really  sickened  of  this  noble  fish.  Those  who  have 
not  seen  the  salmon  ascending  the  streams  in  the  spawning 
season,  cannot  be  convinced  by  such  a  statement  of  facts. 
When  the  spawning  season  is  at  its  height  Indians  sometimes  can- 
not paddle  their  canoes  through  the  dense  mass  of  fishes,  and  in 
some  of  the  narrower  streams  the  canoe  is  almost  raised  out  of 
the  water,  while  at  intervals  a  salmon,  in  a  wild  attempt  to  save 
himself  from  suffocation,  leaps  in  the  air  and  lands  in  the  boat. 

The  fishing  was  done  mainly  at  night.  We  pulled  up  to  a 
picturesque  Indian  camp  one  evening,  and  certainly  never  felt 
farther  from  home  than  when  gliding  around  among  the  laby- 
rinth of  boats,  nets,  and  buoys  on  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Fraser. 
The  swash  of  raising  and  lowering  nets,  the  disagreeable  thud 
of  clubs  despatching  salmon,  and  weird  songs  of  the  Indians  were 
mingled  with  the  equally  unintelligible  strains  and  jargon  of 


622         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

the  half  dozen  other  races.  The  uncouth  figures  and  uncanny 
noises  of  the  klootchmen,  unkempt  children  and  wolfish  dogs 
flitting  around  the  campfires,  and  the  several  peculiar  barbaric 
dances  in  progress  forcibly  impressed  us  that  we  were  out  of  our 
latitude. 

Salmon  fishing  lasts  from  six  to  eight  weeks  and  then  how 
the  money  flies  when  several  thousands  of  these  happy-go-lucky 
spendthrifts,  who  earn  an  average  of  $200  to  $400  each,  find  their 
wages  burning  in  their  pockets!  The  Indian's  chief  anxiety 
seems  to  be  to  return  to  the  mountains  without  a  sou.  To  be 
sure,  they  buy  some  flour,  some  calico,  and  some  sugar,  but  these 
transactions  are  too  commonplace  to  suit  the  fervid  tendencies 
for  picttu-esque  shopping.  They  buy  guns  and  ammunition, 
saddles,  bridles,  fine  silks,  tops,  beautiful  hose,  white  kid  slippers, 
bicycles,  coffins,  silk  tiles,  rare  etchings,  full-dress  suits,  parlor 
stoves,  and  other  equally  impractical  items. 

We  made  a  brief  stop  at  the  Catholic  Mission,  where  the  year 
before  we  had  witnessed  the  wonderful  "Passion  Play"  by  the 
Indians.  The  Roman  Catholic  Church  teaches  these  Indians 
the  events  of  the  Bible  on  the  plan  in  vogue  in  England  in  the  fif- 
teenth and  sixteenth  centuries,  by  miracles  or  tableaux.  As  their 
language  is  not  well  adapted  to  copious  and  graphic  description 
this  method  brings  the  events  of  biblical  history  so  vividly  before 
them  that  they  never  forget.  For  this  purpose  was  given  the 
intensely  realistic  Indian  Passion  Play.  After  prayer  in  the 
improvised  chapel  the  procession  was  formed,  each  priest  from 
the  various  stations  leading  his  people.  In  the  front  of  the  pro- 
cession were  Archbishop  Duhamel,  Ottawa;  Bishop  Leflechre, 
Three  Rivers;  Bishop  Lorrain,  Pembroke;  Vicar  General  Nere- 
chel,  Montreal,  and  many  other  clergy.  As  the  procession 
started  the  Passion  Hymn  was  chanted  until,  by  a  circuitous 
route  up  the  hill,  "the  scene  of  the  Crucifixion"  was  reached. 
En  route  the  procession  passed  the  representation  of  various  scenes 
in  the  few  hours  preceding  the  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour.  Four 
Indians  in  the  costumes  of  the  Disciples  represented  the  agony 
in  the  garden,  with  grave  demeanor  and  solemn  countenances 
acting  their  parts  to  the  life.  The  taking  of  Jesus  by  Judas 
and  the  soldiers,  Christ  before  Pilate,  and  the  scourging  were 
very  impressive  and  showed  the  careful  training  of  the  spiritual 
fathers.      The   crowning  of    the  Saviour  with    thorns,    Christ 


British  Columbia 


623 


and  Veronica,  and  the  holy  women  meeting  Jesus,  followed, 
and  last  the  crucifixion.  The  scenes  were  realistic  and  the 
pantomime  dramatically  correct.  The  figure  of  the  Saviour 
had  been  brought  from  the  chapel  and  elevated  on  a  cross  on  the 
platform,  while  at  the  foot  was  the  Virgin  Mary,  whose  grief 
seemed  inconsolable  as  she  threw  herself  in  despair  against  the 
cross.  The  hallowed  influence  seemed  yet  to  rest  about  the 
location. 


The  Passion  Play  by  British  Columbia  Indians 

Along  the  lower  Fraser  our  bill  of  fare  included  about  every 
species  of  the  duck  and  snipe  family.  Any  novice  with  a  gun 
could  have  supplied  a  battalion.  After  going  seventy-five  miles 
up  the  Fraser  River  we  turned  north  into  the  Harrison  River, 
until  on  the  shore  of  the  lake  by  the  same  name  we  found  a 
sylvan  retreat. 

Bag  and  baggage  was  on  our  camp  ground  about  four  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon  and  before  a  buckle  could  be  opened  it  began  to 
rain.  Never  was  tent  pitched  so  quickly  and  baggage  turned 
under  cover  so  speedily  as  was  done  that  afternoon.  Lake 
Harrison  was  angry  and  it  did  look  as  if  we  had  made  a  mistake 
in  going  to  British  Columbia  instead  of  staying  east  of  the  range 
for  the  camping  season. 

The  next  ten  days  gave  but  four  little  winks  at  the  sun.  Then 
Old  Sol  just  peeked  through  the  wet  clouds  to  see  if  we  could 


624  Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

stand  a  little  more  wetting  and  forthwith  sent  another  shower. 
The  outlook  for  health  and  amusement  was  anything  but  bright, 
but  as  we  could  not  move  until  a  pleasant  day  came  we  contented 
ourselves  as  best  we  could. 

Just  at  the  point  of  despair  the  sun  came  forth  to  stay  and 
opened  up  one  of  Nature's  mountain  and  lake  panoramas  of 
which  she  is  so  proud.  Throwing  open  the  tent  fly  we  sat  inside, 
and  watched  the  heavy  fog  rise  from  the  bosom  of  the  water  and 


Indian  drying  fish  and  game 

hurry  away  to  the  clouds  where  the  evening  sun  filled  its  nebulous 
arms  with  prismatic  colors,  and  roseate  hues  spread  over  the 
entire  sky,  bidding  us  hope  for  a  bright  morrow. 

Lake  Harrison,  six  miles  from  the  Canadian  Pacific  road,  is 
forty  miles  long  and  six  miles  wide.  As  the  fog  sailed  away,  we 
saw  the  shore  lines  for  the  first  time  and  the  view  held  us  en- 
tranced. The  shores  were  precipitous  and  densely  wooded, 
the  walls  often  rising  several  hundred  feet  straight  up  from  the 
water's  edge.  The  lake  has  been  sounded  in  various  parts  for 
a  thousand  feet  without  finding  bottom,  then  again  a  sandy 
ledge  holds  its  own  near  the  surface  from  the  shore  to  an  island 
several  miles  out. 

The  lake  is  studded  with  islands  of  varying  sizes  which  are 
named  according  to  some  individual  peculiarity.  The  Chinaman 
at  the  cook  tent  said,  "one  was  called  Lecho  [Echo]  Island 
where  ladies  have  heap  fun;  he  go  out  in  boat  and  call  loud; 


British  Columbia  625 

pretty  qviick  call  he  come  back.  Ladies  have  heap  good  time, 
much  laugh,  and  laugh  he  come  back  too." 

Snowy  peaks  reared  their  magnificent  forms  in  regal  glory 
almost  encircling  the  lake,  revealing  the  charms  of  summer  and 
winter  dwelling  together  in  harmony,  melting  snows  nourishing 
the  green  fields  and  wayside  flowers,  and  the  warm  earth  of  the 
valleys  evaporating  the  moisture  not  thus  absorbed  and  sending 
it  scurrjang  back  to  the  mountains  again. 

Salmon  had  not  been  so  numerous  in  many  seasons,  and  the 
mountain  trout  beauties  lived  so  well  on  salmon  eggs  that  no 
amount  of  coaxing  would  make  them  rise  to  the  fly.  Many  days 
of  hard  work  on  Harrison  Lake  failed  to  result  in  even  one  trout 
dinner.  Excursions  were  made  to  Trout  Lake,  nestling  among 
the  mountain  crags.  It  necessitated  a  row  of  six  miles,  then  a 
most  romantic  walk  of  a  mile  and  a  half  up  a  very  steep  trail. 
The  great  tall  fir  trees  with  their  intertwining  branches  would  only 
let  the  sunlight  through  as  reflected  light  of  a  peculiar  ghostly 
green  that  was  aided  in  its  intensity  by  the  moss- covered  logs 
and  stones. 

The  feeling  thus  engendered  was  one  of  expectancy  to  see  a 
Rip  Van  Winkle  gather  himself  up  from  the  hillside  or  some  giant 
of  the  forest  come  forth  to  dispute  our  passage. 

"O'er  all  there  hung  a  shadow  and  a  fear; 
A  sense  of  mystery  the  spirit  daunted, 
And  said,  as  plain  as  whisper  in  the  ear, 
The  place  is  haunted." 

Near  the  upper  lake  mosquitoes  sent  couriers  ahead  to  in- 
form their  friends  and  acquaintances  to  congregate  for  our  re- 
ception. Every  one  sang  his  song  and  presented  his  bill  for 
services  rendered,  and  they  drew  good  old  blue  blood  as  strenu- 
ously as  the  leeches  of  ye  olden  times.  Trout  were  plenty  but 
the  price  was  too  high,  and  after  catching  a  good  mess  we 
gladly  left  the  lake  and  its  thirsty  attendants  to  futiire  guests. 

Hurrying  down  the  weirdly  lighted  trail,  a  strange  rumbling 
filled  the  air.  It  was  long  before  we  could  tell  what  or  where  it 
was,  but  nearing  the  water  we  found  the  usually  placid  surface  of 
Lake  Harrison  lashing  in  jealous  fury  and  it  was  the  reverberat- 
ing echoes  that  we  heard  in  such  unknown  cadences.  The  white- 
caps  rolled  and  tumbled  over  one  another  in  a  wild  chase  for  the 
40 


626         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

shore  and  conditions  boded  well  for  a  night's  camp  without  bed  or 
bread.  The  boat  which  had  been  deemed  well  moored  was  cast 
high  and  dry  upon  the  shore,  and  scurrying  clouds  were  threat- 
ening in  the  extreme.  We  had  a  long  and  anxious  wait  before  the 
wind  and  sun  coquetted  off  together,  but  as  it  began  to  grow  dark 
the  troubled  waters  seemed  to  have  quieted  enough  to  afford  an 
adventurous  ride  home.  The  boat  was  pulled  around  into  a  shel- 
tered cove  where  we  could  hold  it  to  get  aboard,  but  the  home- 
ward ride  was  a  hard  pull  against  the  swells  and  the  little  breeze 
that  still  remained.  The  mad  frolic  of  the  waves  was  not  over 
and  the  little  craft  danced  up  and  down  like  a  toy.  Ever  and 
again  a  big  wave  would  gather  force  from  afar  and  roll  with 
ferocious  power  as  if  to  send  our  precious  load  to  Davey  Jones's 
Locker.  But  a  steady  pull  of  the  oars  and  a  timely  turn  of  the 
rudder  would  send  the  boat  with  a  bound  to  the  crest  of  the  next 
high  roller — but  goodness !  how  much  further  it  went  on  the  down 
side.  It  seemed  sometimes  as  if  we  would  never  come  up  again. 
It  is  not  so  very  funny  to  be  "Rocked  in  the  Cradle  of  the  Deep" 
on  a  black  and  starless  night,  and  when  the  boat  bumped  against 
the  home  log  there  was  a  glad  song  of  "Home  Again"  from 
thankful  throats  for  we  had  bumped  against  a  dozen  logs  in  the 
dark  before  we  found  our  own  moorings. 

Camp  was  reached  none  too  soon,  for  a  band  of  curious  cows 
had  taken  possession  in  regular  gypsy  style  and  were  appropriat- 
ing whatever  took  their  fancy.  One  cow  had  swallowed  a  cake 
of  soap.  Another,  more  venturesome,  had  pushed  herself  into  a 
tent  and  was  coolly  standing  on  the  carpet  taking  in  the  situa- 
tion. It  was  a  great  pity  that  it  was  too  late  to  get  her  picture  for 
our  rogue's  gallery.  It  required  generalship  to  get  her  out  of 
there  without  tearing  the  tent  down,  but  she  finally  gave  peace- 
able possession  and  thereafter  the  bars  were  up  as  a  notice  to 
Mrs.  Cow  and  her  satellites  that  they  were  not  expected  to 
further  continue  the  acquaintance. 

At  another  time,  while  trolling  along  in  dreamy  admiration 
of  the  scenery  mixed  with  half  formed  thoughts  of  how  most  peo- 
ple doze  on  through  the  hours  of  the  dawn  and  thereby  lose  all 
the  inspiration  of  the  early  day,  there  came  a  sudden  jerk  on  the 
trolling  line  that  made  the  holder  think  a  whale  or  a  shark  had 
caught  the  spoon  for  a  breakfast.  Yielding  to  the  playful  fancies 
of  whatever  it  was  and  coyly  coaxing  it  along,  there  was  soon  a 


British  Columbia  627 

two  and  a  half  pound  silver  trout  quietly  sleeping  beside  the 
scales  in  the  basket,  with  his  fighting  days  over.  It  was  the 
largest  trout  caught  from  the  lake  that  summer  and  it  was  ptdled 
in  with  great  pride. 

Landing  at  a  noonday  trysting  place  the  baskets  with  a  store 
of  good  things  were  carried  to  a  sheltered  nook,  and,  after  dis- 
posing of  everything  but  the  baskets,  we  half  reclined  on  the 
mossy  banks  and  discussed  the  fascinations  of  a  life  in  the  open 


M 

Dick  sat  in  the  mess  tent  witli  a  hot  potato  on  his  aching  tooth 

air  and  admitted  how  naturally  one  could  drift  back  to  the  life 
of  the  aborigines  if  he  did  not  listen  to  higher  calls. 

All  next  day  after  that  trip  poor  Dick  had  the  toothache,  and 
at  night  instead  of  joining  in  the  campfire  frolic  he  sat  in  the  mess 
tent  with  a  hot  potato  on  his  face  to  alleviate  the  pain,  and  at  the 
same  time  nursed  a  good  cigar  and  tried  to  read  a  novel  to  keep 
from  hearing  the  joys  he  was  missing  in  the  open  air. 

The  campfire  was  unusually  large  that  night  for  there  was  a 
caller  from  the  most  remote  end  of  the  lake.  He  had  seen  the 
glow  of  our  fire  from  his  newly  made  camp  nearby  and  had  wan- 
dered over  to  see  who  was  in  the  party.  He  painted  a  picture  of 
such  startling  attractions  that  we  were  filled  with  the  spirit  of 


628         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

adventure.  Dick  was  dragged  from  his  warm  corner  to  hear  the 
tales  of  the  strange  messenger,  and  the  old  mountaineer  was  so 
entertaining  that  the  tooth  was  forgotten  and  did  not  ache  again 
while  in  camp. 

The  visitor  told  of  the  grassy  slopes  of  Lake  Douglas,  the 
springs,  the  fishing,  the  hunting,  and  the  hospitable  welcome  that 
would  be  given  us  by  the  only  white  man  within  fifty  miles, 
although  he  had  a  squaw  wife  and  family. 

The  old  miner  with  his  seductive  tales  of  old  Port  Douglas 
had  come  down  with  a  party  of  Indians  for  some  supplies,  and 
if  we  wanted  to  extend  our  trip  he  would  guide  and  help  us 
through  to  Douglas  Lake  where  there  was  ideal  camping  and  a 
little  store  where  we  could  buy  bacon  and  sugar,  coffee,  etc.;  also 
there  was  plenty  of  milk,  eggs,  and  butter  to  be  had  at  the  Pur- 
cell  ranch. 

We  were  out  for  an  adventurous  summer  and  the  outlook  was 
brightening.  Our  camp  was  then  less  than  a  mile  from  the  Har- 
rison Hot  Springs  Hotel,  where  we  had  been  able  to  get  boats 
and  whatever  occasion  demanded,  but  we  were  too  near  civiliza- 
tion and  formalities  that  we  were  trying  to  escape. 

It  did  not  seem  to  impress  any  one  that  it  would  be  an  un- 
heard-of thing  to  accept  the  fairy  tales  of  a  self-confessed  world 
rambler,  if  not  a  full-fledged  tramp,  and  yet  his  stories  were  so  in 
keeping  with  our  desires  that  a  consent  to  join  him  was  given  the 
next  morning.  We  had  spent  most  of  our  time  in  canoes  explor- 
ing the  lower  end  of  Harrison  Lake  and  had  made  frequent  trips 
back  to  the  Fraser  River  and  this  offer  came  as  if  it  were  direct 
from  Providence.  Mr.  Tallyard,  for  such  was  the  name  of  our 
hypnotic  visitor,  was  a  typical  mountaineer.  Searching  the 
hills  for  gold  had  led  him  a  merry  chase  all  over  the  world  and  the 
bewitching  glare  of  a  campfire  has  a  peculiar  charm  for  drawing 
out  tales  of  varied  experience.  The  lights  and  shadows  of  the 
blaze  seem  to  people  the  whole  atmosphere  and  aid  the  imagina- 
tion in  adding  the  fable  to  the  true  story.  Thus  it  is  not  the  lack 
of  principle  so  much  as  the  power  of  circumstance  that  lends 
an  exaggerated  glow  to  campfire  tales. 

No  highways  have  ever  been  cut  through  the  dense  forests  on 
the  shores  of  Lake  Harrison  except  at  the  south  end ;  no  trail  for 
man  or  beast,  no  mail  service,  no  telegraph,  no  steamer  except 
for  special  service  ever  finds  its  way  hither;  no  communication 


British  Columbia  629 

whatever  except  as  some  Indian  goes  back  and  forth  with  canoe 
or  sail,  or  perchance  a  white  prospector  comes  down  from  the 
upper  country,  as  in  the  present  case.  Early  dawn  found  the 
camp  in  great  activity — stakes  pulled,  tents  down,  surplus 
utensils  cached  in  the  bushes,  and  the  necessary  things  stored  in 
the  boats. 

Word  was  left  at  the  Hot  Springs  Hotel  to  forward  telegrams  at 
once  by  special  messenger  and  mail  if  there  was  an  opportunity, 
and  the  caravel  set  forth  on  the  voyage  of  discovery.  Flags, 
hats,  and  handkerchiefs  waved  from  the  hotel  veranda  as 
our  grotesque  outfit  sailed  by.  Three  canoes  carried  about  a 
dozen  Indians  and  Captain  Tallyard,  and  the  four  of  our  own 
camping  party,  and  two  Indians  in  our  own  boat.  The  cap- 
tain managed  one  canoe  and  Indians  managed  the  other  three. 
Our  sails  would  have  made  an  American  sailor  faint,  for  an  In- 
dian will  make  a  sail  out  of  anything  from  his  klootchman's 
shawl  to  a  flour  sack,  and  all  sorts  of  advertisements  floated  in  the 
wind  in  consequence  except  the  one  for  that  "tired  feeling" 
which,  of  course,  no  one  has  in  that  exhilarating  outdoor  life. 

One  Indian,  with  the  good  old  name  of  Frank,  had  his  wife  and 
baby  along.  The  babe  had  been  christened  "Minnehaha"  and 
it  was  indeed  a  laughing  papoose.  Not  once  on  the  trip  did  the 
little  thing  cry.  The  mother  was  most  devoted  in  her  care, 
never  leaving  it  for  a  moment.  If  she  went  ashore  the  papoose  in 
its  basket  was  swung  on  her  back  by  an  apekun,  a  broad  home- 
made band  around  her  head.  On  shore  she  would  flee  at  once 
for  berries  or  kindling  and  was  the  first  to  have  a  fire.  She  sat 
on  the  bottom  of  the  boat  with  the  babe  beside  her,  and  managed 
the  sails  or  paddle  while  his  lordship  lazily  steered  and  took  his 
ease. 

Indian  "Harry,"  a  great  stalwart  buck,  was  our  captain's 
personal  attendant  and  his  big  round  face  always  wore  a  smile. 
He  could  not  understand  much  English,  and  thereby  made  some 
very  funny  mistakes,  but  he  kept  on  beaming  with  pleasure  and 
enjoying  the  novel  situation  as  much  as  anybody. 

A  noontime  rest  was  made  on  the  rocky  beach  at  Eagle  Falls, 
one  of  the  famous  sights  of  the  lake  where  the  water  falls 
fifty  feet  between  perpendicular  black  rocks  into  a  big  punch  bowl 
at  its  base.  The  grandeur  of  the  scenery  skirting  the  lake  is  not 
exceeded  in  any  land.     Snowy  peaks  crown  the  summits  on  all 


630         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


sides  and  waterfalls  rush    thousands   of  feet    down  the  rocky 
slopes  into  the  bed  of  the  lake. 

The  mountainsides  are  peculiarly  marked  by  bare  spots 
sometimes  covering  hundreds  of  feet.  They  can  be  seen  miles 
away,  and  at  first  glimpse  look  like  cloud  shadows,  but  a 
nearer  approach  reveals  the  peculiar  freaks  of  nature.  It  re- 
quired but  little  help  of  the  imagination  to  see  the  shape,  in  one, 
of  a  suppHant  girl  before  a  priest  who  hides  his  face  behind  a 
screen.     Another  was  like  a  crowned  woman  in  full  dress  with 

high  puffed  sleeves.  Still  another  was 
like  a  huge  bear  with  one  paw  in  his 
mouth.  All  of  them  were  so  high  and 
inaccessible  that  there  could  be  no  ar- 
tificial work  to  aid  the  imagination. 

At  three  o'clock  the  first  afternoon 
the  breeze  died  entirely  away  and  our 
boats  rocked  only  with  the  undulat- 
ing waves,  so  bending  to  the  oars  the 
first  landing  was  made  that  afforded 
room  for  a  camp. 

We  indulged  in  several  races  en 
route,  and  one  small  canoe,  carrying 
the  squaw  and  papoose,  fairly  flew 
before  the  wind  with  such  a  ludicrous 
combination  of  shawl,  blanket,  and 
tent  sails  manipulated  by  the  buck 
and  squaw,  as  would  have  convulsed 
a  Yankee  skipper.  No  moderate  sized  craft  in  a  white  man's 
hands  so  fearfully  top-heavy  would  have  remained  right  side 
up  in  such  a  breeze ;  but  it  is  needless  to  say  that  the  gracefully 
fashioned  cedar  canoe,  sharp  as  a  razor  at  both  ends,  with  such 
dexterous  handling  was  a  sure  and  safe  winner. 

It  was  a  short,  pebbly  beach  of  an  inlet  where  we  stopped 
for  our  first  night's  camp,  twenty  miles  from  the  hot  springs 
we  had  left  that  morning.  Mr.  Tallyard  made  his  camp  with 
the  Indians,  about  a  hundred  feet  from  our  tent.  Pine  boughs 
were  scarce,  and  in  trying  to  get  into  the  thick  woods  to  cut 
them  the  men  kept  talking  in  loud  voices  that  they  might  keep 
their  points  of  compass,  and  not  be  lost.  If  one  went  in  ten  feet 
he  might  as  well  be  in  a  mile,  so  dense  was  the  brush. 


<^^m. 


Indian  Harry  in  borrowed 
finery 


British  Columbia  631 

When  supper  was  ready,  every  one  was  savagely  hungry 
yet  it  was  an  unusually  silent  meal.  The  strangeness  of  the 
situation  seemed  to  absorb  the  thoughts  of  every  one  on  our  side 
of  the  camp. 

As  the  darkness  settled  on  land  and  sea  there  were  weird 
flashes  of  light  on  the  quiet  waters  and  many  a  jest  went  flying 
between  the  camps.  The  Indians  were  standing,  squatting,  or 
reclining  as  fancy  dictated,  and  they  looked  strangely  grotesque 
in  the  peculiar  light,  silhouetted  against  the  black  night  back- 
ground. 

Imagine  the  change  from  a  luxurious  Boston  home  to  this 
desolate  shore — away  from  the  protecting  shadow  of  dear  Uncle 
Sam's  broad  brimmed  hat,  a  cold  dark  sea  in  front  of  us,  an  im- 
penetrable forest  behind  where  no  human  being  ever  passed, 
no  road,  no  trail,  no  life,  save  the  wild  beasts  that  dispute  the 
right  of  way  to  any  who  enter  their  jungle.  What  awful  things 
might  happen  before  the  dawning  of  a  new  day,  if  daylight  ever 
came  again  for  us. 

We  had  intrusted  ourselves  to  a  strange  party  indeed  and 
should  we  be  murdered  that  night,  no  one  in  the  outside  world 
would  know  it  for  weeks  to  come.  Our  bones  would  have  plenty 
of  time  to  bleach  on  the  sands,  and  the  criminals  could  escape 
without  suspicion  resting  upon  them. 

In  the  light  of  the  mass  of  living  coals  we  tucked  ourselves 
away  in  bed,  every  one  trying  to  be  cheerful  yet  giving  vent  to 
nervous,  spasmodic  laughter  on  the  slightest  occasion,  for  not  one 
would  have  dared  to  utter  the  thoughts  in  his  mind.  The  stars 
were  full  of  resplendent  glow  and  looked  down  upon  our  isolated 
helplessness  just  the  same  as  when  we  were  safe  at  home. 

The  long  night  wore  away  at  last  with  only  a  few  howls  from 
some  unseen  animal  of  the  forest  which  seemed  to  either  scent 
danger  for  himself,  or  a  breakfast.  The  agonized  cries  were  not 
reassuring  as  they  came  nearer,  but  the  sound  turned  back  into 
the  wilderness  and  we  did  not  hear  it  again.  The  Indians  said  it 
was  the  roar  of  a  mountain  lion,  and  the  cry  of  a  wildcat. 

With  the  first  rays  of  daylight  came  the  lusty  crowing  from 
the  Indian  camp,  and  we  had  already  learned  it  was  their  call 
for  something  to  eat.  The  crowing  was  echoed  most  heartily, 
and  around  the  breakfast  cloth  there  were  some  dreadful  "whop- 
pers" told  about  the  delicious  rest  and  sleep  of  the  night,  now 


632         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

past.  Surely  none  but  experienced  fishermen  could  have  made 
up  such  stories.  Neither  Nixie  nor  I  would  for  a  moment  ques- 
tion the  bravery  of  our  liege  lords,  but  when  they  boldly  de- 
clared they  had  not  even  thought  of  danger  it  seemed  proper  to 
ask  them  wh}^  two  who  never  thought  of  danger  should  load  the 
rifles  and  revolvers  and  place  them  with  plenty  of  ammunition 
convenient  to  every  member  of  the  party.  The  call  for  "all 
aboard"  relieved  them  of  their  embarrassment  by  cutting  off 


"We  had  entrusted  ourselves  to  a  strange  party" 

further  discussion  on  the  subject,  and  they  never  gave  opportunity 
for  it  to  be  renewed. 

A  bright  morning  quickly  locks  all  evil  or  uncanny  thoughts  in 
some  underground  passage,  and  thus  we  merrily  set  sail  under  a 
freshening  breeze  and  the  boats  fairly  flew  over  the  rollicking  bil- 
lows. We  felt  more  or  less  ashamed  of  ourselves  for  imagining 
any  ill  of  our  obliging  companions. 

Our  nightly  bivouacs  were  the  most  picturesque  experiences 
imaginable.  Tallyard  was  a  finished  story  teller,  drawing  upon  a 
fund  accumulated  during  thirty  years  of  just  such  life  in  almost 
every  mining  country  on  the  globe.  The  Indians  were  full  of 
frolics,  neighborly  yet  not  in  the  slightest  degree  obtrusive;  but 
they  did  not  conceal  their  amusement  at  our  slowness  in  making 
and  breaking  camp. 

If  any  places  were  more  romantic  and  pleasant  than  others, 
these  keen-eyed  foresters  found  them.  The  beautiful  sheltered 
beaches,  the  numerous  inflowing  streams,  full  of  trout  and  sal- 


British  Columbia  633 

mon,  the  most  picturesque  islands  and  prettiest  waterfalls  were 
as  familiar  to  these  people  as  Broadway  to  us,  although  there  was 
no  way  to  reach  them  except  with  wings  or  a  canoe. 

Reaching  the  point  known  as  "The  Doctor,"  there  was  a 
broken  rocky  wall  having  something  the  appearance  of  a  castle, 
in  the  front  doorway  of  which  were  rocks  piled  by  a  queer  freak 
of  nature  into  a  human  form.  Only  the  lower  part  of  the  face 
was  visible,  with  very  thick  lips  and  a  protruding  tongue.  A 
white  rock  formed  the  necktie  and  collar  and  below  that  a  red 
sandstone  formed  the  red  shirt.  This  image  which  is  called 
"The  Doctor"  has  been  held  in  superstitious  awe  for  many  gen- 
erations by  the  Indians  in  all  this  upper  country.  He  is  be- 
lieved to  have  full  power  over  the  waters  of  this  narrow  passage 
of  the  lake  for  some  three  miles  where  the  perpendicular  walls  on 
either  side  render  a  landing  impossible.  To  propitiate  his  favor 
an  abundance  of  food  must  be  thrown  to  him,  then  if  he  has  al- 
ready barred  the  passage  with  a  storm  one  must  wait  for  him  to 
quiet  the  water.  He  is  sometimes  not  to  be  bought  up  and  keeps 
the  waters  lashing  in  fury  for  several  days.  Our  Indians  were 
prepared  to  throw  out  an  abundance  of  provender  as  we  passed 
around  the  castle,  and  we  made  our  obeisance  in  their  behalf. 
All  Indians  greatly  dread  this  treacherous  channel,  and  not  one 
of  them  would  take  any  lunch,  even  in  the  boat,  until  safely  out 
of  "The  Doctor's"  jurisdiction.  Then  the  crowing  began  good 
and  loud. 

In  the  afternoon,  when  the  boats  were  guided  to  the  delta  of 
the  Lillooet  River,  there  seemed  no  alternative  but  to  remain 
there  until  the  wind  changed  and  carried  out  the  big  jam  of 
driftwood  which  clogged  the  outlet  of  the  river  and  in  which 
the  boats  could  soon  be  crushed  to  slivers.  It  was  necessary  to 
go  a  short  distance  up  Lillooet  River  to  pass  into  Douglas  Creek, 
thence  to  Douglas  Lake,  oiu-  objective  point.  One  little  canoe 
explored  for  an  hour  and  reported  all  passages  unsafe.  We  must 
wait  there  or  make  a  portage  of  half  a  mile  and  with  such  heavy 
boats  and  freight  it  was  not  expedient  for  any  but  the  one  small 
canoe.  Leaving  the  larger  boats  safely  sheltered,  the  entire 
party  walked  over  to  the  other  side  of  the  island,  the  Indians 
carrying  the  small  canoe.  The  redmen  then  held  a  private  con- 
sultation and  returning  said  two  of  them  would  take  the  two 
women  in  the  canoe  and  go  on  up  to  Douglas,  leaving  the  men 


634         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

with  the  other  Indians  and  Tallyard  to  follow  when  they  could 
get  their  boats  around  the  log  jam.  A  change  in  the  wind 
might  open  the  channel  in  two  or  three  hours,  or  it  might  be  two 
or  three  days. 

Our  husbands  hesitated  about  separating  our  small  party, 
and  most  of  all  sending  us — they  knew  not  where.  With  such  a 
haven  as  was  described  for  the  ladies  a  few  miles  away,  and  Tall- 
yard  insisting  that  the  impending  storm  would  be  severe,  we 
were  settled  in  the  bottom  of  the  canoe  before  we  realized  the 
full  import  of  the  move,  with  instructions  to  sit  perfectly  still 
and  not  get  frightened  in  going  through  the  eddies  at  the  mouth 
of  the  river. 

With  an  Indian  in  either  end  of  the  canoe  paddling  with  all 
the  force  he  possessed,  we  quickly  turned  across  the  river  and 
around  a  bend  into  the  swift  swirling  eddies,  so  that  we  had  but 
a  single  glance  backward  to  the  rest  of  the  party  watching  our  de- 
parture. I  had  concealed  my  trusty  revolver  and  kept  it  in 
readiness  should  there  be  any  movement  of  treachery  toward  us. 

It  was  wonderfully  dexterous  management  that  carried  us 
through  the  rapids  and  we  greatly  admired  the  skill  of  our  pad- 
dlers;  but  the  stolid  manner  in  which  they  took  our  smiles  and 
nods  with  a  few  simple  words  in  compliment  to  them,  turned  our 
own  thoughts  to  treachery  again,  and  in  low  voices  we  planned 
our  defence  if  trouble  came.  We  could  but  wonder  how  those 
left  behind  were  going  to  get  their  clumsy  boats  through  those 
eddies  and  repeatedly  wished  we  had  remained  with  them,  al- 
though we  realized  that  their  chances  were  better  for  getting 
through  without  us. 

Nixie  said  she  knew  Dick  was  angry  because  she  did  not  take 
a  decided  stand  and  refuse  to  go — she  knew  it  because  in  that  one 
glance  backward  he  had  not  waved  his  hand  in  farewell.  She 
further  declared  she  would  not  go  near  the  old  squawman's  house 
if  we  landed  alive  on  the  shores  of  Lake  Douglas,  for  she  had  been 
too  long  on  the  North  Pacific  coast  to  expect  to  find  anything 
decent  or  clean  in  a  klootchman's  hut. 

But  it  was  too  late  to  repent  of  what  had  been  done,  and  with 
no  little  curiosity  and  many  misgivings  we  wondered  what  our 
reception  would  be  in  that  unknown  land.  We  watched  with 
eager  expectancy  every  bend  of  the  river  and  fixed  landmarks  in 
our  minds  for  future  emergencies.     Two  hours  of  steady  pad- 


British  Columbia 


635 


dling  carried  us  out  from  under  the  overhanging  brush  that  had 
obstructed  oiu*  view  and  the  glorious  Douglas  Lake  panorama 
opened  up  before  us  in  the  wink  of  an  eye. 

The  lake  was  as  round  as  a  dollar  with  but  scanty  signs  of 
life  about  it.  Here  and  there  an  Indian  home  was  more  than  half 
hidden  in  the  brush  but  we  saw  no  sigi^s  of  occupants.  A  strange 
thrill  came  over  us  as  our  captors  muttered  to  each  other  and 
looked  toward  the  most  deserted  place  of  all,  but  instead  of  head- 


Judge  Goodwin  Purcell 

ing  the  canoe  that  way,  one  of  them  pointed  across  the  lake, 
less  than  two  miles  away,  and  said,  "Ugh!  Ugh!  Purcell,"  and 
paddled  on  over  the  glassy  waters  in  that  direction.  '' 

Back  upon  a  knoll  through  the  trees  we  saw  the  home  of 
Goodwin  Purcell.  What  could  such  a  man  be  like,  who  had 
dwelt  so  long  in  that  isolated  place?  Our  fears  of  treachery  be- 
gan to  lessen,  unless  perchance  it  was  there  where  old  "Blue- 


636         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

beard"  lived  and  we  might  be  going  into  a  trap  from  which  there 
was  no  escape.  With  absolute  poetry  of  motion  the  canoe 
gHded  across  the  smooth  bosom  of  the  lake  and  as  it  safely 
anchored  on  the  further  shore  we  still  wondered  whether  we 
should  wear  sackcloth  and  ashes  in  repentance  for  our  suspicions 
or  whether  there  was  a  plot  deeper  than  we  could  yet  penetrate. 

Our  feet  had  scarcely  touched  the  grassy  slopes  when  a 
patriarchal  figure  emerged  from  the  house  to  give  us  welcome. 
His  long  gray  beard  floated  in  the  breeze  as  he  sauntered  slowly 
down  the  slope  with  his  hands  deep  in  his  trousers*  pockets.  As 
soon  as  we  could  clearly  see  his  honest  old  face  all  wreathed  in 
smiles  we  knew  at  once  that  we  were  in  kind  hands.  He  urged  us 
to  go  to  the  house,  and  as  I  started  to  go  with  him  Nixie  reluct- 
antly followed.  We  found  everything  as  clean  as  any  housewife 
could  wish.  There  was  no  warning  of  company  coming,  so  the 
cleanliness  could  not  have  been  unusual.  As  soon  as  he  learned 
our  story,  he  gave  us  large  rocking  chairs  and  a  basket  of  tempt- 
ing cherries,  then  called  his  own  boys  and  one  of  the  Indians  who 
had  brought  us  there,  and  with  this  crew  went  hurriedly  down 
the  lake  to  help  our  party  out  of  their  troubles. 

When  we  had  rounded  the  bend  that  hid  us  from  view,  the 
gentlemen  began  to  reconsider  the  matter  of  sending  their  wives, 
they  knew  not  where,  with  untried  Indians,  and  they  were  not 
long  in  deciding  not  to  wait  for  the  caprice  of  the  wind  to  clear 
away  but  to  begin  the  portage  at  once.  It  was  a  laborious  task 
to  carry  all  the  camp  outfit  of  tents,  clothing,  provisions,  am- 
munition, and  tackle  across  that  island  but  that  was  light  work 
compared  to  getting  the  heavy  boats  across. 

Mr.  Purcell  and  his  rescuing  party  arrived  just  as  the  boats 
were  loaded  and  starting  up  the  creek,  and  late  at  night  the 
entire  party  came  paddling  up  to  the  shore,  tired,  hungry,  and 
sore  from  the  heavy  work. 

The  hour  was  too  late  to  make  camp  and  Mr.  Purcell  in- 
sisted on  sharing  his  hot  supper  and  all  taking  beds  in  the  house 
for  the  night.  We  were  tucked  away  in  dainty  clean  linen  on 
good  old-fashioned  feather  beds.  The  events  of  the  past  few 
days,  while  intensely  interesting,  had  also  been  full  of  activity, 
and  almost  as  soon  as  the  lights  were  out  a  restful  sleep  settled 
on  all  eyelids. 

Early  next  morning  camp  was  located  near  a  cold  spring 


British  Columbia 


637 


beneath  a  canopy  of  swinging  pines.  The  green  grassy  sward 
sloped  down  to  the  water's  edge  where  the  boats  gently  rocked  at 
their  moorings,  and  from  the  elevation  of  the  tents  the  whole  lake 
and  its  environments  were  plainly  seen. 

In  an  old  storage  room,  opened  up  for  our  convenience,  we 
found  a  small  heating  stove,  chairs,  tables,  and  a  Dutch  oven. 
What  luxuries!  There  was  no  need  longer  to  regret  the  few 
articles  that  lack  of  boat  capacity  had  caused  us  to  cache  in  the 


"Our  camp  was  an  ideal  one  in  every  way" 

lower  camp.  That  old  room  was  our  fairyland  from  which  every 
wish  was  gratified.  A  cook  stove  was  improvised  with  mud 
and  rocks  for  the  sides  and  a  sheetiron  top.  It  looked  more  like 
a  smelter  for  roasting  iron  than  for  roasting  potatoes,  but  it 
served  its  purpose.  Then,  too,  whoever  ate  anything  finer  than 
the  dainties  baked  in  a  Dutch  oven? 

Our  camp  was  an  ideal  one  in  every  way.  The  tents  were 
pitched  about  fifty  yards  from  the  lake  with  clusters  of  firs,  wil- 
lows, and  madrones  partially  obstructing  our  view  of  the  Pur- 
cell  place  and  the  Indian  village.  Where  the  boats  were  moored 
the  syringa  dropped  its  long  arms  of  snowy  blooms  into  the 
water;  on  the  left  the  scarlet  currant  flamed  against  the  dark 


638         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

underbrush,  and,  intermingling  with  the  sweet  honeysuckle  and 
glistening  dogwood  were  rich  rosy  bells  of  the  rhododendron. 
Projecting  all  about  from  the  thick  shade  along  shore  were  the 
queerly  carved  and  fantastically  colored  prows  of  a  dozen  or 
more  Indian  canoes,  "cached"  there  ready  for  a  migration  to  the 
Fraser,  and  much  appreciated  as  a  picturesque  addition  to  an 
otherwise  highly  romantic  scene.  On  the  mountain  was  wood 
galore;  much  of  it  that  fat  pine,  black  and  heavy  with  pitch, 
whose  glow  and  heat  would  have  warmed  even  the  heart  of  a 
misanthrope.  Few  were  the  nights  that  we  failed  to  light  up  the 
shadows  of  the  shore  and  wide  stretches  of  the  lake  with  a  giant 
campfire,  round  which  the  Judge  and  portions  of  his  family, 
and  some  of  the  more  curious  Indians  would  gather  to  exchange 
wild  forest  lore  for  our  tales  of  the  distant  East. 

It  was  the  only  time  that  a  party  of  white  people,  purely  on 
pleasure  bent,  had  been  in  that  locality,  and  Mr.  Purcell  proved 
himself  the  very  prince  of  entertainers.  His  milk- house  was 
clean  and  cool,  the  pans  and  pails  shining  like  mirrors,  while  the 
ice  cold  spring  water  running  through  it  ever  chuckled  and  bab- 
bled to  the  song  of  the  churn.  The  sweetest  of  butter  was  made 
by  the  half- Indian  girls  three  times  a  week,  so  that  plenty  of 
buttermilk  as  well  as  sweet  cream  and  cottage  cheese  were  ever 
in  our  mess  box.  A  basket  of  wild  cherries  gathered  on  the 
mountainside,  a  basket  of  apples,  a  nest  of  fresh  eggs,  or  a  fine 
silver  salmon,  and  wild  flowers  in  pretty  vases  were  sent  to  us 
daily  from  the  Purcell  home.  The  weather  was  perfect,  and  the 
days  slipped  by  like  a  dream. 

Seldom  does  one  meet  with  such  a  genial,  generous-hearted 
man  as  this  king  of  the  forest  and  foresters.  For  thirty- three 
years  he  had  lived  in  this  quiet  spot — ever  since  the  first  exciting 
days  of  gold  digging  in  the  Cariboo  districts  away  to  the  north. 
In  those  early  days  he  established  a  depot  for  miners'  supplies 
and  as  the  dream  of  gold  faded  and  carried  away  the  searchers 
for  the  precious  metal,  he  remained  with  his  little  store  for  the 
native  Indians.  He  married  a  bright  and  kindly  klootchman 
and  a  family  of  two  daughters,  already  in  the  bloom  of  woman- 
hood, and  three  boys  in  their  teens  were  the  living  blessings 
bestowed  upon  them.  He  wore  his  seventy-one  summers  with 
a  dignity  and  strength  that  might  be  the  envy  of  any  man. 

He  not  only  dispensed  what  justice  was  locally  needed,  but 


British  Columbia  639 

he  lived  like  a  king,  his  family  and  the  Indians  generally  doing 
his  bidding  as  though  he  owned  them.  His  little  store  was  their 
only  source  of  supplies  within  many  miles,  and  to  his  strong  box 
alone  they  looked  for  the  coveted  silver  in  exchange  for  the 
grizzly's  pelt  or  other  furs.  Twice  a  year  his  Indian-manned 
flotilla  glides  swiftly  down  to  New  Westminster,  with  loads  of 
furs  and  butter,  returning  with  the  common  merchandise  neces- 
sary for  the  succeeding  six  months'  barter.  His  little  farm  was 
stocked  with  thoroughbred  cattle,  and  besides  all  the  tooth- 
some products  of  the  dairy  he  had  raspberries,  blackberries, 
apples,  plums,  cherries — the  great  ox-heart  cherries — and  the  many 
crisp  vegetables  common  to  our  best  market  gardens.  The 
judge  also  had  a  five-acre  field  of  timothy  and  clover  which  he 
was  cutting  when  we  arrived.  Though  we  remained  a  month,  he 
was  still  haying  when  we  left:  a  joint  tribute  to  the  productive- 
ness of  his  meadow  and  the  irresistible  attractions  of  our  camp, 
for  he  could  n't  find  it  in  his  heart  to  leave  us  for  more  than  an 
hour  or  so  at  a  time.  The  characteristic  "  now  in  the  airly  days  '* 
with  which  he  invariably  commenced  a  story,  was  just  as  enter- 
taining the  last  moment  as  the  first. 

There  is  absolutely  no  trace  of  the  civilization  or  thrift  of 
"those  airly  days,"  save  the  dilapidated  and  overgrown  trail  off 
into  the  silent  forest,  and  a  vine  clad  court-house  now  nearly 
hidden  by  the  grand  old  apple  and  cherry  trees  forming  a  part 
of  the  judge's  orchard. 

That  now  forgotten  court-house  was  the  scene  of  the  late 
Chief  Justice  Begbie's  most  unique  triumph  over  the  befogging 
mists  of  a  British  Columbia  court.  Judge  Begbie's  idea  of  dis- 
pensing justice  was  to  stick  closely  to  the  equities.  He  pos- 
sessed that  unfaltering  courage  and  rugged  honesty  that  made 
him  a  terror  to  all  evil  doers.  Besides  he  held  a  commission 
direct  from  the  Queen  and  there  was  no  appeal  from  his  de- 
cisions. Probably  the  decision  that  best  illustrates  his  contempt 
for  merely  technical  points  was  the  one  which  led  to  the  first 
hanging  in  that  locality.  An  Indian  had  dangerously  shot  a 
Frenchman.  The  latter's  recovery  was  somewhat  problemati- 
cal, at  the  time  of  the  trial,  and  the  judge  instructed  the  jury 
that  attempted  murder  was  practically  equivalent  to  the  crime 
if  the  intent  was  conclusively  proven.  The  twelve  white  jurors 
had  little  choice  left  but  to  bring  in  a  verdict  of  guilty,  although 


640         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

some  say  that  the  convalescent  Frenchman  was  able  to  be  present 
to  hear  sentence  pronounced,  and  was  so  nearly  recovered  at  the 
time  the  man  was  hung  that  he  was  able  to  render  valuable 
assistance  at  that  ceremony. 

It  was  the  happiest  chance  of  the  summer  that  had  turned  us 
hither,  and  at  the  time  of  our  arrival  at  Port  Douglas  the  native 
Indians  were  mostly  down  on  the  Columbia  and  Fraser  rivers 
catching  salmon  and  hop  picking.     The  Canadian  Indians  are 


i^ 


"Not  a  brush  cracked  under  Old  Mary's  cat-like  tread" 

not  supported  by  the  Government,  but  they  must  work  for  their 
own  living.  An  old  squaw  called  "Old  Mary"  was  said  to  carry 
a  hundred  and  twenty  years  and  was  left  in  the  care  of  the  Pur- 
cell  family,  as  she  was  too  old  to  go  fishing.  But  she  used  often 
to  climb  the  mountains  for  berries  and  was  an  active  element 
of  life  wherever  she  went.  The  poor  creature  was  dreadfully 
frightened  while  sitting  for  her  picture,  and  we  heard  her  tell- 
ing one  of  the  girls,  in  Chinook  dialect,  that  she  was  turning  cold 
all  over,  and  believed  she  was  dying.  She  could  not  be  made  to 
understand  the  meaning  of  the  camera  and  the  black  focusing 
cloth,  but  when  she  saw  herself  on  paper  her  delight  knew  no 


British  Columbia  641 

bounds.  She  often  crept  over  to  our  tent  so  stealthily  that  we 
would  not  hear  her:  not  a  brush  cracked  under  her  cat-like  tread, 
and  she  often  made  us  feel  that  she  had  come  up  through  the 
ground  when  we  would  suddenly  spy  her  sitting  in  a  squatting 
posture  almost  beside  us. 

Notwithstanding  the  Indian  village  that  was  only  a  little  way 
round  the  lake,  all  of  these  scattering  bands  of  visiting  Indians, 
lusty  young  bucks  as  well  as  older  ones,  went  straight  to  "Old 
Mary's*'  one-room  shack,  deposited  their  plunder  as  though 
they  owned  her  and  everything  in  sight,  ate  her  dried  salmon, 
burned  the  wood  the  poor  old  humpback  had  lugged  in  from  the 
surrounding  mountains,  and  sat  contentedly  on  the  best  side  of 
her  fire,  while  she  smoked  her  eyes  out  cooking  their  meals  or 
limped  here  and  there  to  make  them  more  comfortable. 

Mr.  Purcell's  two  daughters  had  spent  five  years  at  the 
Mission  school;  they  were  industrious  girls  and  when  the  daily 
duties  were  done,  busied  themselves  with  crochet  work  or  music. 
The  little  Indian  Mission  Church  that  was  directly  across 
the  lake  from  our  camp  was  wholly  adorned  with  pieces  of  their 
work. 

The  Mission  was  under  Catholic  supervision,  and  much  of 
the  money  for  carrying  on  the  work  of  conversion  was  raised 
by  fines.  For  example,  it  cost  a  Port  Douglas  Indian  a  dollar  for 
every  drink  of  intoxicating  liquor,  if  he  was  detected.  One  who 
was  pointed  out  had  already  contributed  a  cow  to  the  church  as 
punishment  for  such  of  his  frequent  potations  as  had  been  entered 
in  the  books.  An  enterprising  padre  who  had  unusual  trouble 
raising  money  for  his  mission,  150  miles  north  of  Port  Douglas, 
hit  upon  the  novel  expedient  of  compelling  the  younger  and  more 
unruly  Indians  to  work  terrifically  a  whole  summer  in  capturing 
and  breaking  about  a  hundred  wild  horses  which  he  sold  at  $5 
to  $10  per  head.  It  is  said  that  the  survivors  did  some  years  of 
penance  for  their  sins,  for  an  exhibition  of  the  bucking  and  kick- 
ing of  those  wild  horses  of  British  Columbia  would  turn  an 
ordinarily  vicious  plains  broncho  green  with  envy. 

One  night  there  was  a  peculiar  and  unusual  noise  around 
camp.  There  had  been  no  night  prowlers  before  and  we  were 
curious  to  know  what  was  going  on.  Pard,  in  slippers  and  pa- 
jamas, hastened  to  investigate.  Scarcely  was  he  out  in  the  moon- 
light before  he  was  heard  to  exclaim,  "Great Scott!  it 's  a  pig!" 
41 


642         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


and  began  chasing  his  pigship  around  the  tent  with  a  broom  as  a 
weapon. 

The  pig  had  the  advantage  of  being  able  to  run  under  the 
guy  ropes  while  his  assailant  fell  over  them,  to  the  peril  not  only 
of  himself  but  the  tent.  At  last,  when  Dick  could  catch  his 
breath  from  laughing  at  the  mental  picture  of  the  outside  per- 
formance, he  called  out  to  know  who  was  down,  but  his  only 
reply  was  a  quick  and  sharp  retort,  "Well,  't  ain't  the  pig." 


<5^Tf? — ^ 

"Pard  in  slippers  and  pajamas  hastened  to  investigate" 

About  a  hundred  Indians  belonging  on  the  Lillooet  chain  of 
lakes  from  sixty  to  seventy-five  miles  north,  or  in  the  Pem- 
berton  Meadows,  journeyed  past  us  homeward  from  the  Fraser 
fisheries.  They  were  several  days  coming  in,  two  or  three  boats 
coming  together  or  straggling  along  at  their  pleasure.  It  had 
been  a  good  year  for  them  and  they  were  in  jolly  good  spirits. 
Foot-races,  boat-races,  and  target  shooting  kept  most  of  the 
young  bucks  busy. 

The  klootchmen  sorted  over  their  newly  acquired  belong- 
ings, proud  of  the  new  styles  they  had  imported.  One  girl  in 
short  dresses  and  bare  feet  sat  for  hours  every  day  fondling  a 
pair  of  white  kid  slippers  with  dainty  French  heels,  and  she  took 
great  pains  to  show  them  every  time  we  passed  her  wigwam. 

When  all  had  arrived  they  gathered  around  an  appointed 
spot  for  a  potlatch  to  be  given  by  the  watchman  of  Pemberton 
Meadows.  A  potlatch  may  be  given  by  any  member  of  a  tribe 
who  seeks  notoriety  among  his  fellows,  if  he  has  the  means  to  do 


British  Columbia  643 

it.  This  one  seemed  to  be  given  more  in  a  sense  of  gratitude  for 
their  good  behavior,  yet  the  fundamental  reason  might  have 
been  traced  to  the  usual  cause.  No  Indian  who  drinks  liquor 
will  be  employed  at  the  fisheries,  and  the  watchman  in  charge  of 
them  is  held  responsible  for  their  good  behavior,  and  this  pot- 
latch  was  his  reward  of  merit  to  them. 

The  klootchmen  were  dressed  in  their  most  bewitching  at- 
tire and  sat  outside  the  circle  of  braves,  having  no  share  in  the 
potlatch  excepting  what  the  bucks  chose  to  give  them,  but  they 
watched  the  distribution  of  rice,  crackers,  and  sugar  with  great 
interest  and  pleasure.  It  was  a  great  day,  followed  by  active 
preparation  for  the  journey  over  the  mountains  to  their  distant 
homes. 

The  fish  boats  were  taken  to  various  points  along  the  shore, 
and  dragged  into  the  timber,  where  they  were  turned  bottom  up 
with  many  already  there,  and  covered  with  cedar  boughs  to 
shield  them  from  the  sun  and  storm,  there  to  be  left  until  the 
next  year's  fishing  time. 

We  expected  to  be  annoyed  by  Indians*  curiosity  around  our 
camp,  but  we  found  the  curiosity  was  more  within  oiu*selves 
and  we  had  to  be  careful  that  we  did  not  do  exactly  what  we  had 
expected  of  them.  Our  pretty  red  and  yellow  hammocks  with 
long  flowing  fringe  attracted  them  most.  They  would  go  out  in 
their  boats  in  front  of  the  camp  to  look  at  them,  but  very  few 
venttu*ed  near  enough  to  examine  them. 

The  night  of  their  arrival  the  whole  lake  was  illuminated  by 
campfires.  Mr.  Purcell  had  been  so  busy  in  his  store  and  in 
watching  his  possessions  that  he  did  not  come  for  his  customary 
call  until  he  saw  our  late  campfire  blazing  cheerily.  The  events 
of  the  day  had  suggested  many  subjects  of  historical  interest  and 
the  campfire  stories  were  unusually  thrilling.  It  was  very  late 
that  night  when  the  tent  flies  were  fastened  open  that  from  the 
beds  we  might  watch  the  dying  fires  until  thoughts  flew  away 
to  dreamland.  But  listen!  What  is  that  we  hear  in  this  wild 
place? 

"  Far  on  the  fervid  air  there  came 

A  strain,  so  rich,  so  tender, 

The  music  seemed  itself  aflame 

With  day's  arriving  splendor." 

Just  as  the  sun  gave  its  first  flash  a  comet  band  composed  of 


644         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


twenty  or  more  young  buck  Indians  began  playing,  "Home, 
Sweet  Home";  this  was  followed  by  "America,"  and  the  "Star 
Spangled  Banner."  Could  anything  have  been  more  thought- 
ful, more  delicately  planned  and  executed  than  this  sunrise 
serenade  with  our  own  beloved  national  airs  by  these  natives 
of  the  forest?  Laughter  and  tears  had  a  struggle  for  mastery 
and  it  was  a  drawn  battle  in  which  both  claimed  victoryo 
Blinded  with  tears  it  was  an  effort  to  find  the  one  American 

flag  that  had  been 
brought  along,  but 
it  was  carried  out 
and  lustily  waved 
in  the  air  while  we 
formed  a  motley 
quartet  enveloped 
in  pajamas  and 
blankets,  giving 
vent  to  our  patriot- 
ism which    was 

^  '  "'  .^^l^IS^^^^Kl^  ^iVT^^^^^H  ^^^^^^  from  across 
pP"  :i«fl|^HlHi^^^HiBwV*"Hll^^^l  thelakeas  the  Stars 

and  Stripes  were 
tied  to  the  limb  of  an 
outstretching  tree. 

Only  a  few  of  the  Lake  Douglas  Indians  had  yet  returned, 
but  as  they  came  they  settled  down  quietly  in  their  smoky  little 
cabins  after  their  summer's  work.  The  other  tribes  had  loaded 
their  accumulations  on  a  few  pack  ponies  and  turned  them  loose 
to  go  home  while  they  tramped  along,  sometimes  beside  the 
animals  but  more  often  ahead  of  them.  The  squaws  carried 
their  little  ones  on  their  backs,  fastened  with  the  apekun,  and 
nearly  all  had  arms  full  of  precious  packages  besides. 

It  was  a  fanciful  scene  when  the  cavalcade  moved  off  loaded 
up  with  old  bicycles,  sewing  machines,  and  many  odd  things  they 
had  picked  up  during  the  summer,  and  when  they  had  gone  life 
resumed  its  quiet  tenor  again. 

The  gods  of  the  rod  went  off  for  a  day,  to  some  distant 
stream.  With  books  and  pillows,  a  board  for  solitaire  and  writ- 
ing. Nixie  and  I  cozily  settled  in  our  canoe,  paddled  out  to  mid- 
lake  and  let  the  boat  lazily  drift  at  the  caprice  of  breezes,  but 


Industrious  daughters  of  the  house 


British  Columbia 


645 


even  reading  and  writing  seemed  laborious  when  one  could  nestle 
among  cushions  and  gaze  with  admiring  eyes  upon  the  snowy 
tents  that  seemed  pitched  so  near  the  sky  and  floated  away  or 
dropped  on  distant  peaks  in  fluffy  patches. 

Suddenly  a  boat  darted  from  the  creek  into  the  lower  lake 
and  made  haste  to  reach  its  destination.  We  knew  at  once  it 
was  a  white  man's  stroke  of  the  oars  and  we  began  to  paddle 


A  potlatch  at  Lake  Douglas 

lively  for  home.  The  first  thoughts  were  that  messengers  with 
news  had  come,  but  as  the  boats  came  nearer  together  we 
recognized  our  own  braves.  But  what  a  fright  Pard  looked  to 
be.  He  was  soaking  wet,  his  hat  and  clothes  were  torn,  and  his 
face  swelled  all  out  of  shape;  he  was  a  picture  of  distress  and 
despair  indeed.  We  soon  won  the  story  that  the  fishing  was 
fine,  and  taking  opposite  sides  of  the  creek  they  were  having 
great  sport  when  Pard,  utterly  oblivious  of  his  surroundings,  slid 
down  a  steep  bank  over  a  clump  of  willows  carrying  a  hornets' 
nest  with  him.  The  whole  family  attacked  him  instantly, 
striking  him  with  their  needles  in  merciless  fashion.  Dropping 
his  rod  he  began  the  race  of  his  life,  running  as  fast  as  possible 
over  boulders  and  broken  logs  with  hat  swinging  wildly  to  fight 
off  his  pursuers.  But  it  was  no  use;  their  stings  were  growing 
worse  and  in  sheer  desperation  he  made  a  mad  plunge  into  the 


646        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

cold  creek.  Dick  thought  it  no  end  of  fun  as  he  watched  the 
escapade  from  the  opposite  side  of  the  creek  but  his  heart 
stopped  its  ticking  when  he  saw  the  plunge,  for  he  knew  the  ex- 
hausted condition  of  his  companion  would  render  him  incapable 
of  fighting  that  boisterous  cold  water.  Hurrying  to  the  spot 
where  he  had  seen  the  plunge  he  found  no  signs  of  Pard  but  look- 
ing far  down  the  stream  a  dripping  form  was  just  rising  from 
the  bath.  Dick  shouted  to  Pard  to  go  on  to  the  boat  and  he 
would  go  back  for  the  rod  and  join  him  in  a  few  minutes,  but  he 
was  again  so  convulsed  with  laughter  that  he  made  slow  progress 
until  with  the  rod  in  hand  he  met  the  white-headed  merchants 
still  on  the  war  path  and  then  his  notes  changed  to  a  sadder 
key.  However,  they  did  not  follow  him,  for  hornets  have  a  keen 
scent  for  the  real  enemy.  The  face,  neck,  and  hands  of  poor 
Pard  were  badly  stung  and  swollen.  We  made  plasters  with  mud 
and  the  white  of  an  egg  and  had  him  tied  up  until  he  was  a  sorry 
sight  to  see  as  he  dropped  down  by  a  big  log,  weary  and  disgusted, 
begging  for  something  that  would  put  him  to  sleep  and  let  him 
forget  his  misery. 

The  turning  of  the  leaves  from  the  summer  hues  to  the  rich 
scarlet  and  gold  of  October  was  a  muffled  bell  that  rang  the  close 
of  our  vacation,  and  when  the  canoes  were  being  loaded  for  our 
departure  we  were  startled  by  a  whiteman's  oars  again  glinting 
rapidly  in  the  sunlight  as  a  small  boat  came  swiftly  to  our  shore. 
A  messenger  with  mail  and  yes — there  was  the  unmistakable 
yellow  envelope  of  a  telegram.  News  of  my  dear  old  father, 
my  heart's  idol,  lying  ill  unto  death,  and  I  must  make  haste 
homeward. 

The  whole  Indian  village  was  out  to  bid  us  bon  voyage  and  a 
goodly  attendance  of  aides  to  see  us  safely  through  the  rapids  of 
the  Lillooet  River  into  the  open  waters  of  Harrison  Lake.  There 
we  were  left  to  paddle  our  own  canoes  as  best  we  might  and  brave 
the  terrors  of  "The  Doctor's"  wrath  or  favor  as  mood  might 
take  him  when  we  passed  the  narrow  channel  of  his  jurisdiction. 
We  were  full  of  gratitude  for  the  kind  and  hospitable  treatment  of 
Mr.  Purcell  and  his  Indian  followers.  We  waved  a  long  farewell 
until  forms  were  no  longer  visible,  and  the  summer  was  merged 
into  a  memory  as  sorrow  added  wings  to  our  oars  in  quick 
completion  of  that  five  hundred  mile  canoe  trip  in  the  British 
Columbia  wilds. 


British  Columbia  647 

A  curious  incident  happened  en  route  home  via  the  Canadian 
Pacific  and  Bellingham  Bay.  Some  one  appropriated  Dick's 
overcoat  on  the  train,  leaving  a  much  better  one  in  its  place. 
Such  a  lucky  thing  as  that  does  not  often  happen  and  the  only 
drawback  was  that  the  coat  was  several  sizes  too  large  for  Dick's 
petite  figure. 

He  cared  for  the  coat  for  several  months,  hoping  his  own 
might  be  returned.  At  last  when  wintry  blasts  began  to  blow 
and  a  topcoat  became  a  daily  necessity,  he  took  the  much  too 
large  coat  to  his  tailor  and  had  it  fitted  down  to  himself.  When 
he  emerged  into  the  street  under  its  comfortable  padding  so 
snugly  readjusted  he  felt  a  sense  of  pride  in  his  scheming  that 
had  saved  him  the  price  of  a  new  winter  covering.  But  alack  and 
alas!  in  the  very  heart  of  the  winter  of  his  enjoyment  there 
came  a  letter  and  a  parcel  to  him  from  afar,  the  letter  telling  of 
the  finding  at  last  of  his  overcoat  by  the  railroad  company,  and  a 
request  to  forward  the  one  in  his  possession  to  the  address  en- 
closed. There  in  the  package  nestled  the  old  coat  that  had  done 
such  service  in  camp,  and  was  no  longer  presentable  anywhere. 
It  was  like  a  homeless  old  tramp  showing  up  at  his  door,  and  he 
consigned  it  at  once  to  the  company  of  other  such  relics. 

The  money  he  thought  he  had  saved  from  buying  a  new  coat 
had  been  spent  twice  over  for  other  things  and  it  was  hard  to  part 
with  that  which  had  become  so  dear.  "Long  he  pondered,  sad 
and  weary, "  then  with  a  peculiar  twinkle  in  his  eye  as  his  mental 
gaze  revealed  a  man  struggling  to  get  into  a  coat  several  sizes  too 
small  for  him,  he  quietly  folded  up  the  remodelled  treasure  and 
without  a  word  of  explanation  forwarded  it  to  the  man  who  would 
be  transformed  into  a  contortionist  when  he  tried  to  put  it  on. 
Then  he  sauntered  down  for  a  highball  and  incidentally  to  give 
a  new  order  to  his  tailor. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 
FROM  BOSTON  TO  THE  CUSTER  BATTLE-FIELD  AND   HAWAII 

HE  trip  East  in  the  fall  of 
1 89 1  resulted  in  a  location 
in  Boston  for  seven  years. 
Pard  had  his  office  in  the 
Equitable  Building  down 
on  Milk  Street,  but  his 
business  as  an  investment 
banker  required  more  or 
less  travelling  and  we  ex- 
plored the  east  as  we  had 
the  West,  but  with  entirely- 
different  motives  and  in  most  luxurious  ways.  Boston  was 
known  to  us  as  the  hub  of  learning,  the  home  of  the  arts,  and 
the  acme  of  social  cultivation  and  refinement.  To  be  born  in 
Boston  was  to  be  born  with  a  large,  receptive  brain,  and  to 
be  reared  there  meant  the  acquirement  of  scholarship  and 
learning  not  obtainable  elsewhere  on  the  American  Continent. 
It  is  a  great  pity  to  have  one's  ideals  crushed  to  earth,  but  one  by 
one  the  honors  attributed  to  the  old  tea  city  faded  away  in  the 
light  of  association. 

The  old  metal  codfish,  the  symbol  of  the  source  of  wealth  of 
the  early  Bostonians,  still  hung  in  the  old  Legislative  Hall  where 
it  had  been  more  than  a  hundred  years.  It  was  the  17th  of 
March,  1784,  that  one  John  Rowe,  a  member  of  the  House  from 
Boston,  gained  permission  to  hang  the  historic  codfish  in  the 
Representatives'  Chamber.  It  symbolized  a  diplomatic  victory 
with  England  and  typified  a  material  commercial  interest.  Hold- 
ing the  fishing  grounds  against  England  was  a  great  victory,  but 
it  required  much  diplomacy  at  several  later  periods  to  keep  the 
fishing  banks  and  make  the  victory  complete. 

This  historic  fish  which  has  floated  on  the  sound  waves  of 
oratory  for  so  many  years  had  been  but  three  times  disturbed, 
and  it  had  not  been  profaned  by  human  hands  in  twenty  years. 

648 


The  Custer  Battle-Field  649 

The  term  "codfish  aristocracy,"  sometimes  used  as  one  of 
reproach  and  applied  to  any  Madam  Malaprop  of  modem  days, 
is  ever  resented  by  -the  makers  of  Boston  society  and  their  de- 
scendants, who  claim  that  the  term  applies  only  to  those  who 
deviate  from  the  simple  life  of  the  fisherman.  If  that  be  true 
alas !  and  alas !  how  many  have  deviated  right  in  their  midst. 

The  bear  has  represented  the  strength  of  the  Russians;  the 
bee  told  of  the  great  Napoleon;  England's  Chancellors  for  years 
have  sat  on  a  wool  sack  beneath  the  throne.  The  rose  and  the 
simple  cross  of  St.  George  tell  the  story  of  England's  morning 
drum  beat.  It  was  under  the  lilies  of  France  that  men  followed 
the  white  plume  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  In  all  ages  the  brazen 
serpent  has  been  Christianity's  emblem  and  the  cross  on  which 
our  Saviour  suffered  the  symbol  under  and  before  which  a  world 
has  worshipped. 

The  plain  codfish  has,  too,  its  own  story.  More  than  the 
Indian  upon  the  State  seal  is  it  the  proper  emblem  of  Massa- 
chusetts, and  tells  of  great  deeds  of  sons  of  the  Commonwealth. 
But  all  the  ceremony  of  taking  it  down  was  but  for  its  removal  to 
the  new  Annex  of  the  State  Building.  The  flag-covered  bier  on 
which  rested  the  State  fish  was  carried  by  Edwin  Gould,  T.  F.  Ped- 
rick,  Frank  Wilson,  and  Sidney  Gardner.  There  was  a  great 
deal  of  "Whoopicus  Ami"  in  the  removal  ceremony.  Even  the 
glazed  scales  of  the  codfish  assumed  an  iridescent  glow  and  its 
tail  wiggled  a  response  to  every  wag  who  ogled  it. 

The  first  house  in  Boston  did  not  have  much  the  best  of  the 
first  house  in  Caldwell,  Shoshone,  or  Hailey ;  the  Commonwealth's 
primitive  start  was  like  unto  most  places,  but  it  has  become  one  of 
the  quaintest  and  most  interesting.  Not  only  is  it  interesting  in 
its  history,  its  Faneuil  Hall,  its  Bunker  Hill,  its  Old  North  Church, 
its  Hancock  Tavern,  its  old  State  House,  its  cemeteries,  its  chim- 
ing bells,  and  its  devious  and  tricky  trails,  but  it  is  interesting  for 
its  beautifiil  homes,  its  wooded  suburbs,  its  glorious  water  views, 
and  its  wondrous  institutions.  Yet  with  all  its  educational 
advantages  there  is  more  ignorance  in  the  middle  class  of  people 
than  one  will  ever  meet  with  in  the  West.  Too  many  confine  their 
knowledge  to  the  little  round  orbit  of  their  daily  lives  and  their 
Saturday  beans.  Many  of  them  looked  with  pitying  eyes  upon  us 
because  we  had  been  living  in  the  awful  West,  way  out  where  the 
Indians  knock  at  the  door  or  window  for  bread  and  white  people 


650         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

run  wild  and  carry  guns.  One  Boston  woman  asked  me  if  people 
travelling  to  Boston  from  the  Pacific  Coast  were  allowed  to  ride 
in  a  Pullman  car,  as  she  did  not  suppose  their  clothes  were  even 
respectable,  and  when  I  told  her  that  it  was  easier  to  get  the 
latest  attire  in  Portland,  Oregon,  than  in  Portland,  Maine,  she 
looked  as  if  her  last  vestige  of  faith  m  me  had  fled.  She  later 
told  an  acquaintance  that  she  believed,  if  the  truth  were  known. 


Camp  on  the  Little  Big  Horn  near  the  Custer  battle-field 

that  we  were  bom  right  there  in  Boston  and  had  never  been 
West  at  all. 

Rarely  has  Boston,  as  she  is  spoken  of  by  the  American  press, 
been  better  summed  up  than  in  lines  of  Mr.  Arthur  Macy: 

"  Fair  city  by  the  famed  Batrachian  Pool, 
Wise  in  the  teachings  of  the  Concord  school ; 
Home  of  the  Eurus,  paradise  of  cranks, 
Stronghold  of  thrift,  proud  in  your  hundred  banks ; 
Land  of  the  mind-cure  and  the  abstruse  book, 
The  Monday  lecture  and  the  shrinking  Cook ; 
Where  twin-lensed  maidens,  careless  of  their  shoes, 
In  phrase  Johnsonian  oft  express  their  views  ; 
Where  realistic  pens  invite  the  throng 
To  mention  "spades"  lest  "shovels"  should  be  wrong; 
Where  men  expect,  by  simple  faith  and  prayer. 
To  lift  a  lid  and  find  a  dollar  there ; 


i 


The  Custer  Battle-Field  651 

Where  labyrinthine  lanes  that  sinuous  creep 
Make  Theseus  sigh  and  Ariadne  weep  ; 
Where  clubs  gregarious  take  commercial  risks 
'Mid  fluctuations  of  alluring  disks  ; 
Where  Beacon  Hill  is  ever  proud  to  show 
Her  reeking  veins  of  liquid  indigo  ; 
To  thee,  fair  land,  I  dedicate  my  song, 
And  tell  how  simple,  artless  minds  go  wrong." 

Although  Boston  is  noted  as  an  incubator  of  "isms,**  fads, 
and  fancies,  there  is  a  large  percentage  of  just  glorious  people 
who  live  in  its  enchanting  environments;  people  whose  hearts 
are  good  as  gold,  and  when  their  doors  do  open  to  strangers 
they  are  not  closed  again.  There  is  reason  for  the  exclusive- 
ness  of  New  England  people.  Many  of  them  have  never 
been  away  from  the  home  of  generations,  and  they  have  no 
understanding  of  the  loneliness  of  a  stranger  within  their  gates. 
Their  ancestors  have  not  only  handed  down  the  results  of  com- 
mercial industry,  but  they  have  handed  down  a  regiment  of 
relatives  who  fill  life's  cup  to  the  brim  with  companionship. 

My  own  heart  was  more  bitterly  sealed  against  intrusion 
when  we  went  to  Boston  than  was  possible  for  any  one  there 
to  emulate.  I  left  all  who  were  dear  to  me  in  the  West,  and  I 
did  not  want  to  make  new  friends.  I  went  there  for  a  pur- 
pose and  as  a  stranger  I  could  throw  my  whole  energy  into  its 
accompUshment . 

They  were  halcyon  days  indeed  contrasting  the  finished  East 
with  the  rough  edges  and  possibilities  of  the  West.  But  the  great 
hurrying  masses  of  humanity  all  along  the  East  shore,  mostly  in 
the  hot  race  for  making  or  spending  money,  were  a  barrier  rather 
than  a  help  to  our  happiness.  We  missed  the  great  anthems  of 
the  forest  and  the  singing  streams,  the  crisp,  cool  night  air;  we 
missed  the  elixir  from  the  snowy  peaks,  we  missed  the  sunny 
Western  skies,  and  the  tent  in  the  Rockies  with  the  hearty  spirit 
of  Western  good  fellowship.  The  alternations  of  our  Eastern 
cruises  with  trips  to  our  friendly  mountains  of  the  great  West 
served  to  impress  us  that  we  could  not  be  content  with  a  home 
on  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  When  physicians  said  Pard  must  leave 
the  New  England  climate,  we  yielded  to  the  fascinating  call  of 
the  good  wide  West  again.  It  was  the  same  old  story,  in  spite  of 
all  efforts  to  the  contrary :  many  dear  people  had  found  their  way 


652         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


into  our  hearts  and  the  parting  was  almost  as  serious  as  it  had 
been  elsewhere. 

Freed  from  business  restraints  we  sailed  away  to  the  mellow 

lands  of  Hawaii  for 
a  season,  to  be  un- 
der the  palms  and 
among  the  tropical 
scenes  of  the  mid- 
ocean  islands. 

We  were  to  em- 
bark on  a  steamer 
at  Vancouver,  B.C., 
and  en  route  made  a 
visit  to  the  Custer 
battle-field  at  the 
Crow  Agency  in 
northern  Wyoming. 
The  great  silent  hill 
which  marks  the 
burial  spot  of  so 
many  sacrificed 
lives,  tells  a  story 
stronger'  than  any 
words  can  portray. 
Many  incidents 
were  related  by 
Robert  L.  Reading, 
the  local  agent ;  they 
were  so  graphically 
told  that  tepees 
seemed  t  o  spring 
into  existence  along 
the  Little  Big-horn 
River  in  the  foreground,  and  the  whole  domain  to  be  peopled 
with  half-clad  Indians  with  faces  daubed  with  gaudy  war  paint 
and  eyes  glittering  with  hate,  while  guns  and  ugly  knives  were 
their  death  dealing  ornaments.  They  charged  up  one  hill  and 
down  another  and  as  the  white  troops  came  in  they  were  gradually 
surrounded  before  the  deadly  annihilation  began.  Then  the  squaws 
followed  in  the  wake  of  the  warriors  and  completed  the  work  so 


Copyrighted  by  Lee  Moorehouse 

The  moniunent  for  Custer's  three  hundred 


The  Custer  Battle-Field 


653 


wickedly  progressing.  The  squaws  were  ever  the  most  cruel 
and  it  was  they  who  usually  did  the  atrocious  mutilating  of  bodies 
on  battle-fields  and  the  torturing  of  prisoners.  Before  the  Custer 
battle  it  was  agreed  by  the  Indians  that  there  should  be  no  pri- 
soners but  that  all  white  men  should  die.  The  very  air  seemed 
full  of  echoes  of  the  fiendish  yells  of  the  savages  gloating  over 
their  success  as  the  awful  massacre  went  on. 

Gen.  Crook  fought  these  same  Indians  a  whole  day,  a  week 


General  Crook  (seated  on  stump  in  left  foreground)  with  staff  oflficers  and 
war  correspondents  during  the  Sioux  campaign  of  1876 


before  the  Custer  massacre  at  the  fierce  battle  of  the  Rosebud. 
He  lost  a  hundred  men  in  killed  and  wounded.  Late  in  the 
afternoon  of  Gen.  Crook's  engagement,  when  victory  seemed 
sure,  the  general  with  staff  and  Pard  were  riding  at  the  head  of 
the  command  in  pursuit  of  the  retreating  savages,  when  timely 
report  of  scouts  telling  of  the  large  number  of  Indians  in  ambush 
and  the  plot  to  entrap  the  whole  command,  as  later  they  did 
entrap  Gen.  Custer,  enabled  Crook  to  withdraw  his  troops  and 
join  forces  with  Gen.  Terry.  It  was  on  this  campaign  that  the 
army  had  to  kill  and  eat  their  disabled  horses. 


654         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


Gen.  Crook  never  carried  any  luxuries  in  his  pack  trains  when 
he  went  out  to  fight  Indians  and  on  this  trip  there  were  no  tents 
and  the  men  did  not  even  carry  razors.  The  only  flag  they  had 
was  improvised  by  the  boys  in  camp,  and  it  would  be  grotesque 
if  it  were  not  so  pathetic.  The  red  stripe  was  from  a  piece  of  an 
old  flannel  shirt  worn  by  one  of  the  officers  the  white  stripe  was 
a  piece  of  canvas,   supplied    by  packer  Moore  and  the   blue 

star  in  the  cen- 
tre was  cut  from 
the  bottom  of 
Major  (now 
Brigadier  Gen- 
eral) Randall's 
blue  pantaloons. 
Pard  says  the 
•qH-wMH^  men  looked 
PS^  I    iiiM?""it^       pretty    much 

w^  ,    J?^-^|^B       alike    in    those 

bearded  days. 

It  was  ration 
day  at  the  Crow 
Agency  and 
every  Indian 
was  on  hand  to 
clamor  for  all  he 
could  get.  True 
to  their  aborig- 
inal custom  of 
gorging  them- 
selves with  all 
they  could  hold, 
feasting  began  at  once  and  they  ate  until  they  fell  asleep,  unmind- 
ful of  whether  they  had  anything  more  until  ration  day  came  again. 
The  instructors  in  the  schools  had  many  difficulties  to  over- 
come. The  parents  resented  the  disciplining  of  their  offspring 
and  a  moral  code  was  not  at  all  to  their  liking.  It  will  require 
more  than  one  generation  to  lift  the  Indians  from  their  moral  and 
intellectual  quagmire  to  an  awakening  of  a  better  life.  It  was  a 
joy  to  leave  such  an  environment  and  hurry  on  to  an  atmosphere 
of  gentleness  and  mirth. 


Crook's  army  had  to  kill  and  eat  the  disabled 
horses  " 


The  Custer  Battle-Field  655 

We  made  the  landing  at  Honoltdu  on  Christmas  Eve,  after 
a  stormy  voyage.  The  languorous  air,  the  seductive  music 
of  the  natives,  the  tropical  fruits  and  foliage  made  us  feel 
as  if  our  souls  had  flown  to  Paradise,  that  there  had  been  a 
transition  from  one  world  to  another  without  knowing  aught 
of  death  or  its  pangs.  The  bougainvilleas  were  gorgeous  in 
purple  blooms  and  with  the  white-bodied  royal  palms  made 
marked  contrast  to  the  dense  green  foliage  around  them.  The 
tall  graceful  cocoanuts  swayed  their  tops  languorously.  The 
pineapple  fields  were  yielding  their  harvest  and  great  bunches  of 
green  fruit  hung  gracefully  under  the  banana  branches.     The 


"  The  tall  graceful  cocoanuts  swayed  their  tops  languorously " 

wonderful  banyan  trees  with  their  strong  arms  rooted  again  and 
again  made  a  single  tree  cover  a  great  area  with  curiously  entwined 
roots  and  branches  that  afforded  ideal  picnic  grounds  in  their 
heavy  shade.  Thousands  of  blossoms  of  the  night-blooming 
cereus  made  the  air  odorous  with  their  perfume,  lotus  ponds  were 
covered  with  lily  pads  sheltering  multitudes  of  oncoming  buds 
and  blooms,  and  bunches  of  papaia  clung  lovingly  to  their  tree 
trunks  like  masses  of  golden  grapefruit. 

The  natives  ploughed  their  rice  fields  with  sharp  sticks  pulled 
through  the  wet  marshy  soil  by  a  lone  sacred  ox.  They  ground 
their  taro  roots  into  flour  with  stones,  as  their  forefathers  had 
done,  and  ate  their  poi  with  one,  two,  or  three  fingers  according 
to  its  consistency.     Their  beds  were  made  of  straw  mats  piled 


656         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

together  as  thick  as  the  owner  could  afford,  and  the  beds  were 
large  enoirgh  to  accommodate  the  whole  family.  They  used  no 
pillows  but  rested  the  neck  on  a  contrivance  resembling  a  mini- 
ature sawbuck. 

The  dress  of  the  native  woman  was  made  like  an  American 
Mother- Hubbard,  gathered  full  at  the  neck  and  hung  loosely  from 
the  shoulders  to  the  ground,  or  girded  with  a  sash  under  the  arms, 
and  everybody  wore  white  from  tip  to  toe.  It  was  a  dainty  custom 
for  men  to  wear  white  suits,  white  shoes,  and  Panama  hats,  and 
in  the  early  evening  when  they  were  flitting  through  the  tropical 
foliage  of  the  hotel  grounds  they  seemed  like  ghosts  playing  at 
hide  and  seek.  The  novelty  of  such  a  unique  country  with  the 
study  of  its  customs,  its  people,  its  productions,  and  its  accom- 
plishments was  a  diversion  and  a  joy. 

The  Hawaiian  people  were  a  happy-go-lucky  race  having  a 
love  for  music  and  indolence  common  in  the  warm  latitudes,  but 
perhaps  in  a  greater  degree,  for  there  was  no  near  country  to  spur 
them  to  thoughts  of  to-morrow.  The  women  had  beautiful 
hands,  plump  and  soft,  but  long  and  tapering  fingers,  as  smooth 
as  wax  from  the  knuckle  to  the  dainty  finger  point.  The  hands 
told  plainly  the  love  of  pleasure  and  the  love  of  plenty  if  it  came 
easy,  and  if  it  did  n't  come  easy  they  could  do  without  it.  If 
the  man  of  the  house  should  by  chance  do  a  day's  work,  he  re- 
turned home  to  find  his  family  out  on  the  grass  or  in  the  water, 
and  if  he  was  hungry  he  would  have  to  get  his  own  supper.  If 
a  native  had  but  fifty  cents  he  would  buy  a  fish  for  twenty-five 
cents  and  spend  the  other  twenty-five  cents  on  a  cab  to  take 
himself  and  his  fish  home. 

The  Hawaiians  are  a  cleanly  people,  though  not  industrious. 
They  love  to  ride  and  sing  and  dance  and  rest.  They  may  have 
some  poi  bowls  or  other  trinkets  to  sell,  but  if  one  wanted  some- 
thing more  of  their  handicraft  there  would  be  positively  no  use 
of  expecting  it  at  any  given  time.  They  make  you  wait  till 
the  spirit  moves  them  to  make  it,  not  an  hour  sooner,  for  love  or 
money. 

There  were  many  beautiful  homes  and  the  palace  of  the 
former  kings  was  a  dignified  structure  in  keeping  with  its  purpose. 
The  home  of  Queen  Liliuokalani  was  an  imposing  two-story  frame 
house  with  many  white  columns  supporting  the  galleries  that 
surround  it.     A  peculiar  feature  about  nearly  all  houses  was  the 


The  Custer  Battle-Field 


657 


absence  of  chimneys,  as  most  of  the  cooking  was  done  in  the  open 
air.  In  the  better  families  the  tables  were  spread  in  a  lanai, 
which  is  a  veranda  enclosed  in  wire  netting.  The  netting  was 
not  to  keep  out  flies,  for  they  are  almost  unknown,  but  the 
pest  of  the  islands  is  mosquitoes  which  are .  there  in  abundance, 
then  multiplied  by  millions,  then  more.  Not  only  are  doors 
and  windows  screened,  but  a  double  precaution  is  taken  by  having 


Honolulu  belles  with  flower  leis  around  their  necks 


the  beds  draped  over  with  netting.  The  atmosphere  was  always 
mild  and  does  not  vary  ten  degrees  in  the  year. 

We  toured  the  islands  by  steamer,  stage,  horseback,  and  afoot, 
but  with  the  approach  of  spring  began  to  realize  that  we  were 
assimilating  a  brand  of  air  and  kind  of  life  which,  if  they  did  not 
enervate,  they  would  strike  the  limit  of  relaxation.  Life  there 
glides  on  in  charmed  existence;  one  grows  forgetful  of  duties  and 
becomes  hypnotized  by  the  dreamy  air  and  soft  strains  of  the 
eukalali,  and  awakes  only  on  steamer  days  when  the  mail  comes 
with  reminders  of  another  world. 

Surf  riding  is  the  greatest  of  all  sports,  as  it  is  in  all  south  sea 
43 


658        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


islands.  The  natives  are  experts  in  the  water  with  boards  and 
canoes.  They  are  almost  as  aquatic  as  the  fish  in  the  sea.  There 
is  no  sport  so  wildly  exhilarating,  but  it  is  attended  with  much 
danger  as  we  learned  by  a  sad  experience.  For  the  sport  a  canoe 
is  manned  by  two  stalwart  Kanakas  who  can  read  the  water  as  an 
Indian  will  hiswoodlore.  The  pleasure  party  is  clothed  in  bathing 
suits  and  caps,  expecting  to  get  more  or  less  wet  as  the  spray  flies 
over  them.     Every  one  in  the  boat  is  supplied  with  a  paddle,  and 

he  bends    to   his 

blade  with  a  will 

^  amid   shouts  of 

JHHHMt^     '^t^y  merriment  as  the 

wK^^g^     "^M^  '^ '        ^^^^  glides   out 

^^^^  "    I    JHMMMIliiBlifite,        from  the  shore. 

When  perhaps  a 
mile  away,  the 
Kanaka  gives  the 
signal  to  rest, 
while  his  eagle 
eye  watches  the 
incoming  waves. 
Across  the  gun- 
wales fore  and 
aft  a  pole  is  fast- 
ened which  ex- 
tends eight  or  ten 
feet  out  from  the 
canoe,  then  grace- 
fully curves  down- 
ward to  the  water 
and  is  attached  to 
a  six  or  eight  inch  log  of  buoyant  wood ;  this  outrigger,  as  it  is 
called,  serves  to  keep  the  boat  from  being  swamped ;  a  canoe  prop- 
erly handled  will  not  upset  because  of  the  outrigger,  but  sometimes 
a  great  sea  comber  will  fill  the  boat  with  water  and  cause  it  to 
go  under,  but  it  will  not  sink.  The  natives  who  handle  those 
surf  boats  can  scent  a  big  breaker  before  it  is  born,  while  the  ordi- 
nary person  sees  no  difference  in  the  oncoming  waves,  but  the 
trained  eye  of  the  Kanaka  gives  warning,  the  boat  is  headed  for 
the  shore,  and  every  paddle  is  lifted  in  the  air  waiting  the  word  of 


Green  turtle  for  dinner 


Hawaii  659 

command.  When  the  comber  is  about  to  snatch  the  canoe  he 
yells  "go,"  then  everybody  paddles  with  all  the  power  he  has  in 
him.  If  the  canoe  does  not  have  sufficient  momentum  when  the 
roller  lifts  it  up  it  will  only  get  a  good  drenching  and  be  left  behind, 
but  if  its  speed  has  been  rightly  calculated  there  is  a  sudden  lifting 
of  the  stem,  an  instant  of  breathless  suspense,  then  on  the  crest  of 
the  great  roller  the  boat  shoots  ahead  with  a  lightning  increase 
of  speed  that  sends  a  yell  from  every  throat  as  it  shoots  along  the 
inshore  side  of  the  roller  always  just  ahead,  yet  under  the  curling 
crest  of  a  great  comber  that  breaks  into  foam  at  the  stem  of  the 
canoe,  and  amid  the  wildest  kind  of  excitement  the  boat  glides 
safely  in  to  shore.  That  is  fun  when  all  goes  well,  but  there  are 
times  when  the  sensations  are  different. 

It  was  nearly  our  last  day  on  the  island  and  we  wanted  one 
more  ride  on  the  crest  of  the  waves  ere  we  departed  in  the  big 
ship  for  the  homeland.  The  day  was  a  wild  one,  but  in  our 
ignorance  of  conditions  it  seemed  just  the  right  kind  of  a  day  for 
the  sport.  The  natives  gave  no  note  of  warning,  neither  did  the 
people  in  charge  of  the  beach  say  aught  of  danger.  The  Kanakas 
were  eager  for  their  fee,  and  we  started  out.  As  the  boat  ad- 
vanced and  the  great  waves  rose  and  broke  I  grew  somewhat 
alarmed,  but  my  fears  were  allayed  by  expressions  of  full  con- 
fidence in  the  two  men  in  charge.  Suddenly  they  grew  serious, 
and  when  our  boat  was  headed  inshore  we  noted  that  they  lost 
all  their  cheerfulness  and  talked  excitedly  in  their  native  tongue. 
At  last  they  gave  the  signal  and  we  paddled  for  life;  the  roller 
lifted  us  twenty  feet  in  the  air,  and  then  instead  of  carrying  us  in- 
land the  prow  was  sent  downward  and  we  turned  a  complete  sum- 
mersault going  down  into  the  coral  beds  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
The  outrigger  was  broken  off  entirely  from  one  end  of  the  boat 
and  it  swung  away  quite  out  of  reach.  We  all  came  to  the  sur- 
face and  regained  the  now  upturned  boat.  Pard  clutched  me  with 
a  grip  of  death,  and  while  he  was  telling  me  what  to  do  another 
breaker  tore  us  from  the  canoe  and  sent  us  down  again.  One 
Kanaka  took  the  young  daughter  of  Col.  John  A.  Steams,  now 
a  resident  of  Los  Angeles,  and  flinging  her  on  his  back  started 
for  shore  leaving  the  rest  of  us  to  get  on  as  best  we  might.  The 
other  Kanaka  was  so  interested  in  trying  to  get  his  outrigger  that 
he  paid  but  scant  attention  to  us. 

We  were  swept  again  and  again  from  our  frail  hold  on  the 


66o        Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

slippery  boat  and  hurled  like  straws  down  into  the  dark  depths 
of  the  waters.  But  never  for  an  instant  did  the  great  breakers 
tear  me  from  Pard's  vise-like  grasp.  At  last  between  the  series 
of  waves  that  come  in  threes  and  sevens  he  managed  to  help  me 
get  astride  of  the  overturned  boat  where,  by  hugging  close  with 
my  head  on  its  sHppery  bottom,  I  could  just  hold  to  the  edge  of 
the  submerged  gunwales  and  cHng  to  them  as  the  waves  swallowed 
us  again  and  again  and  carried  us  on  the  flowing  tide. 

Mrs.  Stearns  had  remained  on  shore  and  saw  our  help- 
lessness. She  was  crazed  with  grief  and  anxiety  and  rushed 
about  frantically  to  get  some  one  to  go  to  our  assistance.  There 
were,  however,  but  few  people  about  the  beach,  as  the  day  was 


Surf  riding  near  Diamond  Head 


considered  unsafe  for  pleasure-seekers,  and  the  Kanakas  had  all 
gone  into  town  except  the  two  who  had  taken  our  party  out.  As 
we  drifted  in  to  more  quiet  water,  the  one  who  had  remained  with 
us  made  us  understand  that  he  wanted  to  right  the  boat.  I 
threw  up  quantities  of  seawater  that  I  had  swallowed  in  my 
various  excursions  to  the  bottom,  and  it  seemed  cruel  to  be  obliged 
to  release  myself  and  slide  off  into  the  foamy  deep  again,  but  the 
old  Kanaka  could  only  say:  "Too  bad,  too  bad,"  and  I  realized 
that  with  the  boat  right  side  up  we  could  all  cling  to  it  and  be 
assured  of  safety.  I  slipped  off  and  at  a  given  signal  a  united  pull 
in  one  direction  turned  it  over.  Although  it  was  full  of  water  and 
we  could  not  get  into  it,  we  could  cling  to  its  sides  and  thus  finally 
worked  our  way  to  shore. 

Colonel  Stearns  had  been  fortunate  enough  to  get  a  position 


Hawaii  66i 

between  the  broken  outrigger  and  the  bow  of  the  boat  so  that  at 
no  time  was  he  in  danger  of  drowning  after  the  first  or  second 
immersion,  but  whenever  his  head  came  up  out  of  water  he  looked 
for  the  Kanaka  with  his  daughter  who  was  sometime  in  sight  and 
sometimes  not. 

When  we  had  the  boat  turned  up  and  were  slowly  getting 
into  safer  waters  Colonel  Steams  began  to  call  my  name  in  a  most 
distressing  voice.  Again  and  again  he  called  to  me  until  we  feared 
he  was  becoming  unbalanced  in  his  mind,  and  I  asked:    "What 


A  Hawaiian  spearing  fish 

is  the  matter,  Colonel?"  "Oh,  Mrs.  Strahom, "  he  called  again 
in  agonizing  tones,  "  I  *m  losing  my  trousers. "  We  were  all  so 
excited  and  weak  that  we  became  fairly  hysterical  and  with  the 
distress  and  laughter  I  nearly  lost  my  hold  on  the  boat.  The 
force  of  the  water  was  gradually  carrying  away  a  portion  of  his 
bathing  suit,  and  he  did  not  dare  loosen  his  hold  on  the  outrigger 
for  an  instant  to  hold  his  trousers,  yet  as  he  was  in  front  of  me  he 
was  in  a  doubly  distressed  state  of  mind.  Pard  called  out  to  him 
most  reassuringly  to  cheer  up  for  if  that  was  all  that  was  lost 
on  the  trip  we  would  be  mighty  lucky.     It  was  a  happy  moment 


662         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

when  our  feet  could  touch  the  soft,  mellow  slope  near  land,  where 
we  let  go  of  the  boat  and  waded  ashore  more  dead  than  alive  and 
dropped  on  the  warm  sand.  The  suspense  for  Mrs.  Stearns  had 
been  terrific ;  she  had  watched  us  working  our  way  to  the  shore, 
sometimes  in  sight  and  again  not  one  of  us  to  be  seen.  Pard's 
feet  were  torn  and  bleeding  from  frequent  contact  with  the  ragged 
reefs  that  lie  close  in  the  harbor  of  Waikiki.  His  trembling  form 
showed  how  near  he  had  reached  the  limit  of  his  strength,  and 
every  time  I  bent  over  I  brought  up  so  much  water  that  I  must 
have  been  very  near  the  point  of  drowning.  It  was  a  miraculous 
escape,  and  if  there  was  no  mortal  hand  reached  out  to  succor 
us  there  was  the  mysterious  hand  of  Providence  that  brought  us 
safely  into  port. 

The  incident  caused  a  great  deal  of  newspaper  controversy 
and  a  scheme  was  at  once  started  to  establish  a  life-saving  crew 
at  that  beach,  as  well  as  to  license  only  experienced  Kanakas  to 
take  parties  out. 

Just  how  close  a  call  we  had  in  other  ways  was  made  manifest 
to  us  soon  after  our  return  when  in  a  smooth  sea  a  few  men  went 
out  to  the  vicinity  of  our  mishap  and  jumped  into  the  water  for 
a  swim;  one  of  the  men  failed  to  come  to  the  surface  again  and 
no  amount  of  hunting  could  reveal  any  trace  of  him.  Within 
three  days  a  large  shark  was  caught  near  by  and  the  missing 
man's  foot  was  found  in  the  shark's  stomach  and  identified  by 
his  wife  through  a  peculiar  malformation. 

Shark  hunting  is  one  of  the  most  exciting  diversions  about 
the  islands.  Mr.  T.  W.  Hobson,  who  owned  the  superb  Httle 
yacht  Gladys,  invited  Pard  and  a  few  others  to  go  to  Pearl 
Harbor  on  such  a  hunt.  A  circuit  of  twenty-five  miles  was  made 
for  the  purpose  of  fishing  and  sightseeing,  but  it  was  only  eight 
miles  from  town  where  the  anchor  was  dropped  for  the  night, 
and  the  shark  bait  lowered  into  the  deep.  The  hook  was  seven 
eighths  inch  steel,  about  a  foot  long,  and  attached  to  six  or  eight 
feet  of  steel  chain,  which  in  turn  was  fastened  to  some  two 
hundred  feet  of  five  eighths  inch  rope.  Not  having  any  nibble 
before  they  went  to  bed  the  slack  rope  was  carried  down  into  the 
cabin  and  a  tin  pail  attached  to  it  that  would  give  warning  by  its 
rattle  across  the  floor.  A  few  hours  later  there  was  an  unmis- 
takable clatter  of  the  pail  as  it  bumped  against  every  available 
article  on  its  way  across  the  cabin  and  up  the  stairs  with  the  half- 


Hawaii 


663 


clad  men  scrambling  for  its  possession.     There  was  a  spectacle 

not  to   be  photographed,  with  four  or  five  men  in  "undress 

uniforms"  exerting  their  strength  on  the  rope  as  if  a  wild  Texas 

steer  were  pulling  at  the  other  end.     If  a  shark  comes  to  the 

surface  under  these  conditions  there  is  just  as  much  danger  from 

his  tail  as  from  his  head.     After  securely  hooking  him,  the  first 

important  thing  is  to  get  his  head  above  water  and  shoot  him 

with  a  heavy  ball, 

to   stun  him,  so 

that   a   loop   of  an 

extra   rope   can   be 

slipped   over   the 

line    and    pushed 

over  his  head  back 

to    the    tail    and 

drawn  taut.     Then 

when  he   gets   his 

second     wind    he 

can    be    gradually 

worn  out  or  pulled 

ashore    without    so 

much  danger. 

But  sharks  are 
great  on  going  to 
the  bottom  or  to 
the  end  of  the  rope 
and  wanting  to 
stay  there.  This 
fellow  followed 
these  tactics  until 
the  men  were  about  tired  out,  and  not  until  daylight  did 
they  succeed  in  getting  him  near  the  surface.  Then  the  way 
he  plunged,  churned,  and  hammered  the  water  and  gnashed 
those  big  jaws  of  his  suggested  the  thought  that  he  might  jump 
on  to  the  yacht,  whose  decks  were  only  about  three  feet  above 
him.  One  of  his  first  feats  was  to  whip  the  fourteen  foot  tender 
nearly  full  of  water.  Meantime,  Mr.  Pierson  was  giving  him 
an  occasional  .45-90  bullet,  which  so  long  as  they  struck  only 
his  body  seemed  to  make  him  all  the  more  furious  and  dangerous. 
Finally  a  ball  lodged  in  the  head  and  they  managed  to  get  the 


He  was  ten  feet  long  and  would  probably  have 
weighed  500  pounds  " 


664         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

noose  over  him  as  above  suggested;  then  quickly  hauling  him 
out  of  the  water,  tail  first,  by  aid  of  the  throat  halyards,  they 
gave  him  the  coup-de- grace  with  additional  shots.  During 
this  latter  performance  he  twisted  and  wriggled,  and  snapped 
those  vicious  eyes  and  gnashed  those  ugly  teeth  of  his  in  a  way 
that  kept  all  hands  at  a  safe  distance.  He  was  ten  feet  long  and 
would  probably  have  weighed  five  hundred  pounds.  Sharks  are 
very  ticklish  and  will  jump  clear  out  of  the  water  if  you  happen 
to  touch  them  with  a  rope  or  boat  hook.     Their  ferocity,  courage. 


A  happy  family  taking  a  sun  bath  on  Layson  Island 

strength,  and  endurance  are  out  of  all  proportion  to  their  size 
when  compared  to  other  fishes.  They  are,  indeed,  the  tigers  of 
the  sea. 

The  teeth  of  the  shark  are  most  peculiar;  they  are  about 
three  fourths  of  an  inch  long  with  a  circular  shape  whose  edges 
are  like  the  teeth  of  a  saw.  These  man-eating  sharks  have  three 
rows  of  teeth.  In  the  upper  jaw  they  are  like  rows  of  hooks 
slanting  backward,  and  when  not  in  use  they  He  flat  in  the  roof 
of  the  mouth  in  a  leathery  cartilage. 

They  care  for  their  young  by  keeping  them  in  the  mouth  and 
an  eighteen  foot  shark  that  had  recently  been  captured  had 
twenty-seven  young  ones  in  her  mouth.     These  sharks  are  always 


Hawaii  665 

accompanied  by  a  pilot  fish,  an  odd  looking  creature  with  sucker 
attachment  on  its  back,  which  is  used  to  enable  it  to  cling  to  the 
shark  at  times.  This  fish  always  stays  close  by  when  a  shark 
is  being  killed  and  can  easily  be  caught.  Mr.  Hobson  says  a 
shark  that  he  hooked  once  carried  away  the  hook,  seven  feet  of 
chain,  and  a  lot  of  rope,  and  the  natives  living  on  the  beach 
nearby  complained  that  the  fish  kept  them  awake  nights  rattling 
the  chain  over  the  coral  reef  along  the  shore. 

The  unique  national  customs  of  any  country  cannot  long 
endure  the  inquisitorial  regime  of  strangers  however  friendly 
they  may  purport  to  be.  It  has  changed  the  peasantry  of  all 
Europe  and  the  same  thing  was  going  on  in  Honolulu.  Only 
the  hula-hula  girls  still  wear  the  skirts  of  beaten  bark  or  grasses, 
though  many  wear  the  floral  lei  and  bracelets  of  dog  teeth.  The 
hula  dance  was  once  the  ceremonial  dance  of  Hawaiian  festivities, 
weddings,  births,  or  national  feast  days;  the  hula  song  and  dance 
was  the  very  poetry  of  motion  and  it  was  the  whiteman's  coming 
that  transformed  it  by  jeers  and  jests  to  the  most  disreputable 
of  dances. 

Another  custom  that  is  passing  away  is  the  chanting  of  the 
olioli.  In  olden  days  the  history  of  the  island  lived  only  in  song, 
and  the  deeds  of  brave  kings  were  memorized  and  sung  in  the 
most  melancholy  chant.  Those  who  sang  were  professional  his- 
torians and  their  language  was  the  old  classical  Hawaiian  that 
the  younger  generation  of  this  day  do  not  understand.  Their 
singers  are  rapidly  passing  away  and  no  new  ones  take  the  vacant 
places. 

Princess  Kaiulani  died  while  we  were  in  Honolulu  and  the 
olioli  singers  gathered  in  great  force  to  sing  the  deeds  of  the  royal 
house.  The  midnight  air  was  heavy  with  wailing  songs,  and  to 
those  who  did  not  understand  it  made  a  night  hideous  and  mel- 
ancholy. The  funeral,  however,  was  an  imposing  one,  with  the 
dead  princess  clothed  in  royal  robes  lying  in  great  splendor  on 
the  bier  surrounded  by  her  household  retinue  and  guards  with 
torches.  It  is  an  old  superstition  that  the  royalty  of  Honolulu  die 
during  great  storms.  The  night  the  princess  died  there  was  such 
a  terrific  storm  that  many  predicted  her  death,  and  she  herself 
grew  alarmed  and  fought  like  a  tigress  for  her  life  until  she  be- 
came exhausted  with  her  efforts  and  died  quickly  after  making  a 
final  leap  from  her  bed.   She  gave  a  loud  scream,  and  sprang  from 


666         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


her  attendants;  then  as  she  tried  to  get  under  the  bed  the  wind 
caught  her  soul  and  carried  it  away  on  the  wings  of  the  storm. 
Those  old  superstitions  die  hard  when  they  have  been  bred  in 
the  bone  for  many  generations. 

The  popular  food  of  the  islands  is  the  taro,  which  resembles 
our  Irish  potato  only  the  taro  grows  somewhat  larger.  It  is 
eaten  as  a  vegetable  and  it  is  also  made  into  poi  which  looks  like 
a  thick  cooked  starch,  and  it  is  eaten  by  dipping  it  up  with  the 


Goonies  and  their  eggs  on  Layson  Island 

fingers.     Some  of  the  poi  bowls  are  exquisite  works  of  art,  many 
of  which  are  made  of  cocoa  shells. 

The  most  beautiful  custom  in  this  dreamland  of  the  South  is 
that  of  stringing  the  flowers  into  ropes  and  wearing  them  about 
the  head,  neck,  and  arms  or  wound  about  a  hat.  It  fills  one  with 
delight  when  the  steamer  lands  to  see  the  native  women  stretching 
out  their  arms  laden  with  the  floral  lei  as  a  welcome  to  their  sunny 
land  and  every  departing  steamer  has  passengers  covered  with 
bright  strings  of  carnations  or  the  national  yellow  flower  of  Hawaii 
until  the  individual  is  almost  hidden  from  view.  It  used  to  be 
the  custom  to  fling  them  back  to  the  people  on  the  wharf  as  the 
steamer  slipped  from  her  moorings,  and  it  meant  good  luck  to  any 


Hawaii 


667 


one  on  whom  a  lei  fell.  But  they  are  so  attractive  that  foreigners 
do  not  like  to  part  with  them  until  the  sea  begins  to  roll  and  the 
heavy  perfume  of  tube  roses  and  carnations  sends  people  to 
their  staterooms.  The  deck  boy  then  consigns  the  flowers  to  the 
fishes  without  asking  or  needing  any  one's  consent.  It  is  to  be 
hoped  that  the 
custom  will  never 
pass,  for  what 
could  be  a  more 
gracious  welcome 
tfian  a  lasso  of 
delicate  flowers. 

There  are 
many  things 
novel,  interesting, 
and  exciting  in 
what  one  sees  in 
foreign  lands,  but 
the  one  we  would 
not  care  to  repeat 
was  the  landing 
at  one  of  the 
islands  where 
there  was  prac- 
tically no  harbor 
and  we  were 
transferred  at  the 
end  of  a  rope  by 
a  derrick,  and  let 
down  to  a  small 
boat  waiting  in 
the  rough  water.  I  demurred  and  said  I  would  go  back  without 
seeing  the  famous  crater,  without  a  lock  of  Pelee's  hair,  and 
without  a  glimpse  of  the  great  burning  fields  of  the  volcano 
rather  than  go  ashore  that  way,  but  my  mate  was  to  be  so 
disappointed  at  turning  back  that  I  nerved  myself  for  the  fling 
and  took  my  turn  at  the  midair  suspension.  Its  repetition 
from  the  small  boat  to  the  dock,  up  on  the  rocky  bluff,  and 
back  again  was  entirely  too  much  aerial  travel  for  one  season. 

The  soft  languorous  air,  the  glorious  opalescence  of  Oriental 


We  were  transferred   at  the  end  of  a  rope  by 
derrick  " 


668         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

colorings  of  earth  and  sea  and  sky  were  with  us  at  all  times  in  that 
tropical  land;  we  lived  out  of  doors  with  no  fear  of  change  of 
weather  or  of  temperature;  wraps  and  hats  were  laid  aside  for 
day  or  night,  and  everywhere  and  at  all  hours  one  heard  the 
strains  of  stringed  instruments  and  the  seductive  tones  of  the 
native  words  made  up  of  bewitching  vowel  elongations  whose 
cadences  were  full  of  alluring  caprice. 

It  is  no  wonder  the  natives  rebelled  at  annexation.  They 
did  not  want  to  be  classed  with  our  negroes.  Though  they  are 
dark  of  skin  they  have  very  straight  hair.  Hawaiians  are  an 
aristocratic  class,  they  are  mellow  eyed,  big  hearted  to  a  fault, 
and  musical  from  tip  to  tip.  Nor  did  they  want  to  turn  from 
the  pleasure  loving  life  to  one  of  toil  and  restraint.  It  must  be 
wrong  to  molest  the  happy,  care-free  life,  and  force  upon  them 
customs  and  habits  and  ways  of  living  that  are  so  distasteful  and 
that  will  destroy  all  that  is  picturesque  and  beautiful  in  their 
primitive  existence. 


An  opening  for  any  one — big  or  little — all  welcome. 


CHAPTER  XLVIII 


THE  PASSING  OF  THE  WILDERNESS 


HEdaysof 
long  stage 
trips  are 
now  for- 
ever past  and  the 
broad  sage-brush 
desert,  so  lately- 
labelled  "unex- 
plored country,"  is 
blooming  in  fertil- 
ity. The  development  of  varied  resources  is  accelerated  by 
thousands  of  miles  of  well-fed  waterways  opened  by  enterprising 
private  capital  and  by  special  acts  of  Congress.  Great  mountain 
ranges  and  deep  tangled  forests  have  been  everywhere  cut  and 
penetrated  by  the  iron  horse.  All  this,  coupled  with  the  vast 
productions  of  the  West,  has  evolved  a  civilization  and  an  en- 
vironment no  other  land  on  earth  can  in  such  brief  time  emulate. 
A  faint  conception  of  the  import  of  these  lightning  strides 
of  the  passing  of  the  wilderness  can  best  be  gathered  by  referring 
to  conditions  existing  in  1825,  as  graphically  set  forth  in  a  speech 
made  at  that  time  by  Hon.  Malon  Dickinson,  United  States 
Senator  from  New  Jersey.  He  came  out  boldly  in  the  United 
States  Senate  for  a  bill  to  provide  land  grants  to  settlers  in  Oregon 
Territory  because  it  could  never  become  one  of  the  United  States, 
and  it  would  never  be  of  any  essential  value  to  the  Union.  He 
undertook  to  show  that  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  secure 
from  it  a  representative  to  Congress.  He  estimated  the  distance 
from  the  Columbia  River  to  Washington,  D.C.,  at  4650  miles, 
and  said  that  a  member  of  Congress  from  the  State  of  Oregon 
must  travel,  going  to  and  returning  from  the  seat  of  government, 
9300  miles,  and  supposing  him  to  travel  at  the  rate  of  thirty 

669 


670         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 

miles  per  day,  allowing  for  Sundays,  it  would  take  him  350  days 
of  the  year  to  go  to  Washington  and  return.  This  would  allow 
him  only  a  fortnight  to  rest  himself  in  the  capital  before  commenc- 
ing his  journey  home.  As  a  considerable  part  of  the  way  was 
over  rugged  mountains,  covered  the  larger  part  of  the  year  with  a 
great  depth  of  snow,  he  stated  that  travelling  at  the  rate  of  thirty 
miles  a  day  would  be  a  hard  and  almost  impossible  task.  Yet 
a  young,  able-bodied  Senator  or  Representative  might  possibly 
travel  from  Oregon  to  Washington  and  back  again  in  the  course 
of  a  year,  but  he  could  do  nothing  else.  He  stated  that  he  might 
come  more  expeditiously,  however,  by  water,  around  Cape  Horn, 
or  through  Bering  Strait,  around  the  north  coast  of  the  continent 
to  Baffin's  Bay;  thence  through  Davis  Strait  to  the  Atlantic,  and 
so  on  to  Washington.  "It  is  true,"  he  said,  "that  such  a  pas- 
sage has  not  yet  been  discovered  except  on  our  maps,  but  it  will 
be  discovered  as  soon  as  Oregon  will  become  a  State. " 

It  is  evident  that  his  views  were  shared  by  a  majority  of  the 
members  of  the  Senate,  because  at  the  conclusion  of  his  speech 
the  bill  passed  the  Senate  by  two  votes. 

A  few  fur  settlements  and  a  small  agricultural  and  lumber 
district  were  created  before  1850,  but  it  was  not  until  after  1880, 
when  the  railroads  were  pushed  into  the  Northwest  country,  that 
any  great  development  began,  or  that  settlement  began  to  take 
place  with  any  rapid  stride. 

The  Northern  Pacific  road  was  finished  to  Wallula  in  1883  and 
to  Puget  Sound  in  1885.  The  Oregon  Short  Line  with  the  Oregon 
Railway  and  Navigation  connecting  lines  were  finished  to  Port- 
land in  1884.  It  is  of  much  interest  to  those  of  us  who  traversed 
the  long,  lone,  and  barren  wastes  in  the  old  Concord  coaches  to 
watch,  following  in  the  same  trail,  the  new  iron  horse  that  has 
won  the  race  and  sidetracked  the  old  mode  of  travel  to  the  more 
remote  districts;  to  note,  also,  the  steel  arms  reaching  from  the 
main  lines  to  every  valued  section  and  encompassing  the  lands,  the 
fields  of  wheat,  the  forests,  the  fruit  orchards,  and  the  cattle  ranges, 
and  circling  the  waters  of  the  great  fisheries  and  sending  their 
laden  ships  to  foreign  shores.  It  is  like  watching  the  development 
of  a  new  world.  While  for  us  there  is  a  measure  of  sadness  in  the 
passing  of  the  lumbering  stage-coach,  the  rollicking  cowboy,  and 
the  care-free,  open-hearted  prospector  and  miner,  the  picturesque 
Indian,  and  the  unstinted  frontier  hospitality,  with  all  the  breezy, 


4> 

3^3  = 
S3  «i  .g 

«  .2  d 
6  -o  .2 

ed  d  0) 
o  Cf  Wi 
O     M 

4) 

at 


•=  *a  !2 

d  'C 

o         o 


O     0) 
-t->     u 

0)    "^ 

2^ 


/    a 


,/  ^      ^       o 


if 

«   2 

0)      CO 

S 


671 


672         Fifteen  Thousand  Miles  by  Stage 


florid  atmosphere  of  real  pioneering,  yet  there  is  a  thrill  of  ecstasy 
as  all  the  different  startling  stages  of  West-wide  development 
burst  into  bloom. 

The  passing  of  the  wilderness  is  no  idle  dream ;  it  is  like  the 
opening  of  the  chestnut  burr  with  its  thorny,  dry,  resisting  ele- 


Phoiograph  by  courtesy  of  Lee  Moorehouse,  Pendleton,  Ore. 

"The  lonely  outpost  of  a  dying  race" 

ments.  One  may  scratch  and  bruise  himself  and  rebel  at  the 
pricks  that  shed  his  blood,  but  the  delicious  sweetmeat  pays 
for  it  all. 

The  wilderness  is  blossoming  into  the  most  important  section 
of  the  United  States,  and  now  the  news  has  come  to  the  United 
States  over  the  Alaskan  cable  that  Captain  Donald  Amundsen 
has  passed  from  the  Atlantic  Ocean  through  that  passage  which 
Mr.  Dickinson  had  ironically  said  would  be  discovered  when 
Oregon  became  a  State.  He  looked  upon  both  as  being  too 
utterly  improbable  to  be  considered  at  all.     It  is  a  pity  he  could 


The  Passing  of  the  Wilderness  673 

not  have  lived  to  see  the  five  glorious  States  created  out  of 
Oregon,  with  their  people  enjoying  full  congressional  rights  and 
privileges  equal  to  that  of  any  Eastern  commonwealth. 

What  hardships  have  been  endured  and  heart-strings  crushed 
and  broken ;  what  family  ties  have  been  rent  by  the  great  move- 
ment to  the  West !  The  spatulate  hand  of  the  explorer  has  kept 
him  hewing  his  way  through  the  forest  and  beckoning  others  to 
follow  in  his  wake.  His  heart  and  home  are  in  the  forward  ranks 
of  civilization  and  it  is  through  an  earnest,  life-sacrificing  ordeal 
that  the  frontiersman  has  slowly  blazed  the  way,  with  sword  and 
shovel  and  gun,  with  pick  and  plough  and  pan,  and  with  poverty 
and  suffering.  Each  has  played  a  part  to  one  great  end — the 
opening  of  the  chestnut  burr — revealing  a  land  of  milk  and  honey, 
a  land  of  fruits  and  flowers,  a  land  full  of  running  streams  and  tur- 
bulent waterfalls,  a  land  with  bread  for  all  nations,  a  land  of  moun- 
tains that  kiss  the  sky  and  scatter  fertilizing  fluids  to  thirsty 
deserts,  a  land  of  life-giving  ozone,  where  youth  holds  the  charm 
over  years  and  the  ravages  of  time  are  lost  in  eternal  bloom. 

The  vast  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep  that  roamed  at  will  on  a 
thousand  hills  have  been  taken  from  the  cowboy  range  and  con- 
fined within  gateways,  that  many  broad  acres  might  produce 
the  more  golden  harvests  of  fruits,  grain,  and  wine.  The  trails 
have  broadened  into  great  highways  of  commerce,  the  prospector 
and  his  packhorse  have  gone  over  the  hills,  the  loaded  wagons 
with  their  many  oxen  and  horses  no  longer  drag  along  the  moun- 
tainsides where  but  yesterday  drivers  met  and  snarled  over  the 
right  of  way. 

Irrigation  has  travelled  far  and  wide  down  many  a  mountain- 
side, making  the  world  brighter  wherever  it  has  roamed.  Its 
smile  has  been  caught  in  the  blush  of  the  rose,  in  the  cheek  of  the 
apple,  in  the  bloom  of  the  peach,  in  the  lips  of  the  cherries,  and  in 
the  heart  of  every  other  product  of  its  marriage  with  Fairyland. 
Even  the  great  maddening  salt  plains  are  being  drawn  into 
the  seething  vortex  of  commerce,  and  trackless  deserts  are  no 
longer  on  the  maps  of  our  grand  and  glorious  United  States. 

THE  END 


